


True American (Movie Nights and Werewolf Plights)

by SassyStarboard



Series: Movie Nights and Werewolf Plights [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV) References, DC Comics References, Derek Hale & Isaac Lahey Friendship, Derek Hale Has a Crush on Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, F/F, F/M, Harry Potter References, M/M, Marvel References, Minor Allison Argent/Lydia Martin, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pre-Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, References to Supernatural (TV), Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski are Roommates, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Star Trek References, Star Wars References, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22581586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyStarboard/pseuds/SassyStarboard
Summary: Derek can’t stand his noisy floor mates and goes next door to tell them to shut up and quit playing their stupid drinking game. One of them turns out to be super cute but also very drunk, and when Derek runs into his cute neighbor again the next morning, Stiles turns out to be everything he's ever wanted. Too bad the guy’s dating his roommate. Or is he?
Relationships: Allison Argent/Lydia Martin, Danny Mahealani/Jackson Whittemore, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Movie Nights and Werewolf Plights [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1631581
Comments: 30
Kudos: 524





	1. True American

**Author's Note:**

> The title and part of the main scene references two fictional games. One is a drinking game from the show New Girl and the other is a competition from Brooklyn 99. Hope you enjoy!!
> 
> EDIT:  
> ATTENTION: I decided this story would work better as a multi-chapter fic than as a series since you really can't read them separately/out of order. THIS first work will become the ONLY work and the works following it will become chapters 2/3/4. So sorry if this causes any confusion!

College was disgusting. Even humans found college dorms to be full of irritating, unnecessary noise pollution and—as a werewolf who needed to pass a high level economics exam tomorrow—Derek found the noise coming from his neighbors dorm to be completely intolerable. In the past two hours, he had been subjected to bubblegum pop music, blaring video game sound effects, an awful charred smell of burnt sugar and melted plastic, and now the four of them and whoever else they had invited to their screamfest were shouting and cheering like they were at a theme park.

It was 1:37am and Derek couldn’t take it anymore. 

Derek groaned, tearing himself away from the practice quiz he’d been reviewing and setting his laptop to the side, preparing to rain hell down on his neighbors. If he was lucky, maybe he’d scare them into switching halls completely and his new floor mates would be into something nice and quiet. Like yoga. Or sleeping. 

Derek pulled on his shoes, irritated. Really, it was his fault for requesting to be in the basement. Originally he’d thought it would help him and Isaac avoid unnecessary human interaction—i.e. avoid another serial killer accusation. Now he knew better. Derek’s idiotic request had put them in a room next to a suite, which meant his neighbors were literally twice as loud as everyone else because their giant room had twice the number of people living in it. 

Grabbing his key, Derek strode out of his room, locked the door behind him, and turned down the end of the hall. He had an exam in seven hours and he wasn’t about to fail because of some irresponsible idiot who was finally discovering alcohol for the first time. Derek knocked loudly on the door to the suite, annoyed. At Derek’s knock, the noise came to an immediate halt. Derek listened, hearing hushed, panicked whispers coming through the other side of the door.

_“I told you we were too loud! It’s housing!”_

_“Wonderful. And now we’re positively done for because you two have the grace to match an overweight elephant!”_

_“How come you’re the one who sounds smart drunk? I wanna be smart!”_

_“Shut up! I’ll get it!”_

_“No, it’s my room! I’m getting it!”_

_“Everybody be cool!”_

Derek heard the people inside shushing each other as one of them made their way to the door. 

A boy with short dark hair and wide brown eyes answered; his practiced, relaxed face contrasting his erratic heartbeat. He opened the door just wide enough to stick his head through and grinned lazily at Derek like a drunken Cheshire Cat, the partially open door creating the illusion of a floating head. Derek waited. The boy said nothing. Derek frowned.

“Um—“

“Hello good sir, how may I assist you this evening?” The boy asked regally, his eyelashes fluttering. Abruptly, Derek realized how attractive the boy was and nearly forgot what he’d come over for.

Derek faltered, struggling to recover. “I...I live next door. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind keeping it—“

“Scotty!” The boy fully opened the door and excitedly called back into his suite. “Scotty, he lives next door! He’s cool!”

The boy grabbed Derek’s arm and dragged him into the room. Derek, too shocked to pull his arm away, let himself be led into the most bafflingly cluttered room he’d ever seen.

There were three other people in the room. Two girls—one with dark curls, one with two strawberry blonde braids—and another boy with a mop of dark hair. He, presumably, was Scotty. In the middle of the room, the girls were sitting on rollaway chairs with colored duct tape wrapped around the base while Scotty hung off of one of the bunk beds.

In the corner furthest from the door, a large pile of clothes was being guarded by four rollaway chairs. Of the four desks, two were covered in school work and shoved to the side while another was empty except for a single flip flop—the same shoe one of the girls appeared to be missing. The final desk had an absurdly high stack of empty beer cans and was surrounded by unopened bags of chips and microwave popcorn. Large strips of duct tape—the same tape used on the chairs—had been used to mark X’s inside nearly all of the floor tiles, with one particular section of green X’s marred by a puddle of what looked like rainbow vomit.

Derek blinked, stunned. The disarray of the room was utterly chaotic and he'd never felt more confused in his life. The boy who had answered was still holding onto Derek and he kept walking, enthusiastically pulling Derek towards one of the vacant bunk beds. His scent was muddled as he dragged Derek around but it was good, somehow still pleasant under the layers of alcohol and adrenaline. Finally he stopped and turned, beaming proudly.

“Okay, so here are the rules. The floor’s lava and you have to go around collecting all the beer even though those are like bonus points and what you really want is the bottle of Fireball cause the Fireball is the treasure. The treasure is buried under Laundry Mountain but to enter Laundry Mountain you have to win the Chair Olympics and to get into the Chair Olympics you have to capture tile spaces. The tiles worth the most points are the really gross ones, like that one over there with all the melted Sour Patch Kids. Okay? So what color do you want? Actually, no. We only have pink. Cause Scott’s red, Allison’s blue, Lydia’s purple, and Stiles is green.”

The boy gasped harshly—he had clearly forgotten to breathe in between sentences—and was now looking at Derek expectantly. So were his friends.

Derek was at a loss for words. No stranger had ever had such a long, positive interaction with him. His plan had been to have a three second conversation where he intimidated them into being quiet, but these people were too drunk for that to work. Even more unusual, the boy in front of him desperately wanted Derek to join their game. It was as though he thought Derek looked _fun_. Still, even though it had been explained to him, Derek had absolutely no idea what was being played.

“What.” He managed, overwhelmed.

“We’re playing a cross between Jimmy Jabs and True American. You wanna play, right?”

“What?”

“Of course he does.”

Derek turned. The girl with the red hair was staring at him, twirling one of her braids around her finger with a teasing grin.

“Stay as long as you like.” She winked. Angry, the other girl scowled and kicked the first girls’ roller chair away. Her chair took off, spinning wildly across the floor.

“Allison!” She screeched, whirling wildly. Which made her Lydia, Derek noted. Allison grabbed a lacrosse stick from the floor and pushed off from Laundry Mountain to go spinning after Lydia. Scott dissolved into laughter and fell off the bunk bed ladder he’d been hanging on. He collapsed on the floor with a groan and didn’t move.

The first boy pulled a stunned Derek out of the way as the girls rolled past them, twirling giddily. Derek frowned. _Scott. Allison. Lydia._

“What’s a Stiles?” He asked.

The boy blinked sluggishly, processing. “Yes? What? What’s a—oh! Me. Me, I’m a Stiles. Wait, no. I’m Stiles. Hi. Good evening.”

“Hi.”

“Pink?” Stiles reached into the nearest desk drawer and pulled out an oversized roll of neon pink duct tape.

Whatever sort of abomination this game was, Derek couldn’t see himself playing it at all. He could maybe see himself watching his pack play it while he made sure they didn’t kill themselves. God knows they needed the supervision when they were sober. athe four of them playing a drinking game without him to supervise would end in disaster. Boyd, at the very least, had a shred of common sense, but Isaac and Erica were hopeless. As for Cora, Derek had long since given up on his sister. Not that Derek didn’t miss all of them greatly. Isaac was the only one who had gone to his college; Erica and Boyd were over an hour away while Cora was at home with Laura and Peter studying the supernatural and.....studying. _Shit_.

Stiles was still staring at him expectantly.

“I can’t.” Derek managed.

“Why?”

“I have an exam.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean _why_?”

“Why?”

“To pass my class! I need to study!” Derek said, exasperated.

“You’re taking it now? But it’s like two in the morning.”

“No, it’s tomorrow.” Derek clarified.

“Yeah, that’s what two in the morning means. Oh! Come on, if we don’t finish before 2:22 the game goes into Overtime Rules.” Stiles pushed the duct tape towards Derek, who stepped back. Stiles pouted.

Derek took a deep breath. “I can’t.” He gritted out. “I have an exam. It’s tomorrow morning in Economics 207. I came by because I’m studying and I need you to—” 

He stopped. Stiles looked heartbroken. The poor boy was clutching the roll of duct tape to his chest and cuddling it like a teddy bear, his wide brown eyes shining with sadness. Derek pursed his lips, then sighed.

“Maybe...maybe some other time.” He offered carefully. “I think—"

“What the hell, Stilinski!?”

All eyes turned towards the open doorway. A boy with gelled hair and a furious expression on his face was glaring at Stiles, who shrank into himself with a guilty whine. Derek suddenly felt strangely protective and scowled intensely at the boy in the doorway, who responded by looking personally disgusted. 

Lydia, however, gave a cry of excitement and shot up from her seat on the floor. “Jackson! Jackson, do you wanna play? It’s so much fun! Please! Please!” 

Lydia threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Jackson stumbled, clearly caught off guard, but steadied her and resumed glaring at Stiles, who was pouting again.

“You said you weren’t coming back from Danny’s until tomorrow.” Stiles said in a small voice. 

“Put my stuff back and clean this up. Now.” Jackson ordered. He cast a disdainful look at Scott, who had bravely attempted to crawl up from the floor but had instead passed out on the bottom bunk. Stiles sniffed.

“We didn’t finish playing.” He said miserably. Jackson’s already furious expression darkened.

Derek felt as though he’d been caught in the middle of a long-standing argument and moved to make an escape. He’d already been here for far longer than he’d anticipated and he desperately needed to pass this exam. Much to Derek’s dismay, missing a handful of classes due to _allergies_ and _the flu_ (otherwise known as official werewolf activities) was unacceptable in a college level finance course and his grades had been dragged down by his constant absences. Being a werewolf was ruining his business school GPA. 

“I’ll just...leave.” Derek managed, taking a step back.

“Yeah, who even are you?” Jackson snapped at him. Derek raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. 

“Derek.” He said flatly.

“Like Magneto?” Stiles asked excitedly.

“Um...I don’t think so.” Derek told him. 

“ _Erik_.” Scott groaned. Derek glanced at him to see Scott's face being smushed into the floor as he slowly drooped off of the mattress. The poor boy looked like a sad, drunken noodle. Stiles huffed.

“Sucks for you then.” He muttered bitterly. Jackson gave Derek a pointed look.

“Alright then. Derek? _Get out_.” Jackson sneered at him. 

Derek steeled himself. No matter how good it would feel to claw that smug look off of Jackson’s face, murdering a stranger was the last thing Derek needed on his record right now. People had certainly been expelled for less. Fortunately, Derek was tired and didn’t currently possess the energy that slaughtering Jackson would require. He had an exam in six hours. 

“Enjoy your night.” He gritted out.

Jackson pushed past Stiles and carefully pried Lydia off of him, setting her down on one of the bunk beds. Derek left, shutting their door behind him. He could hear Jackson’s voice berating Stiles all the way back to his room, feeling annoyed and more than a little guilty for somehow siccing Jackson on poor drunken Stiles. Derek let out a breath of air and sat down on his bed, reopening his laptop. Then he tensed at Jackson's next words.

_“Dammit, Stiles! I told you to quit bringing your fucking hookups back here.”_

_Great_. Derek plugged his headphones into his laptop. 

He’d deal with his neighbors another day. He had an exam in six hours.


	2. The Return of Magneto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek runs into Stiles at the university library. Stiles is hungover and barely remembers meeting Derek last night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m turning this into a multi-chapter fic! Hope you guys love it as much as I do! Please enjoy!

The next day, there was a familiar scent hanging around the library. 

Derek couldn’t place it and it was driving him crazy. 

At its core, the scent was dark spices and a deep forest. It was coffee and chocolate and rain, along with a soft laundry detergent that was somehow flowery but didn’t attack his senses. It was intoxicating, despite being mixed with the bitter undertone of medication and a blatant overtone of stale alcohol, and it grew stronger when Derek saw a boy in dark sunglasses and a cinched-up hoodie all but collapse on a nearby armchair.

_ Stiles _ .

The scent had been mixed in with so many things last night it had been hard to separate—the boys’ suite has been disgusting and the basement floor they all lived on was terrible for werewolf senses. It was near impossible to smell anything down there except the overpowering layers of mildew and laundry detergent. For all Derek knew, he and Isaac could be living next to a sewage treatment plant and it would be masked by the scent of dryer sheets and basement mold that came with being underground and three doors down from the communal laundry room.

Now Derek was free of his Economics midterm and Stiles was less than ten feet away from him. Derek grinned.  _ Finally _ something had gone right for him. Admittedly, Stiles looked insane wearing sunglasses indoors but the boy didn’t seem to care. He looked perfectly content and was typing away on his laptop, staring intently at the screen and chugging a large coffee.

Derek considered approaching him, warring with himself. This would be so much easier if Isaac was here. Isaac was a hopeless romantic and didn’t put up with Derek’s self-deprecating thought spirals—the perfect recipe for a wingman. Not that he needed one. Derek simply wanted to make sure the boy was okay, that was all. It didn’t matter that it had been less than twenty four hours and Derek couldn’t stop thinking about his neighbors. Still, part of Derek was strangely desperate to see them again—to talk to Stiles again. The rest of him wanted to get as far away as possible to diminish the risk of getting attached. Because for once, the  _ wolf  _ wasn’t the one who wanted him to run away— _ pack, protect, mate,  _ **_mine_ ** —and that was what made him decide. Extending his social circle was hazardous at best, especially for a human.

So Derek went back to his laptop.

A few minutes later, Derek heard rustling and a muttered curse as Stiles pushed himself to a stand, then inexplicably walked over to Derek and sat down across from him.  _ Stiles _ . Derek felt himself straighten. He waited. Stiles set his coffee and his laptop down on the table and stared at Derek through his sunglasses. Finally, pushing up his sunglasses to get a better look—which gave Derek a better look at the dark circles under the boys eyes—he spoke.

“Were you in my room?” Stiles asked, dazed. His voice was hoarse and thick with sleep. “I remember your face.”

That was rather impressive, given that Derek hadn’t expected Stiles to remember him at all. Derek hesitated, considering possible responses before deciding he didn’t need to embarrass himself. Or Stiles, for that matter. 

“It’s possible.” Derek said carefully. “We’re neighbors.”

Stiles squinted at him, suspicious. “Why do I feel like your name is Magneto?” 

Derek raised an eyebrow. “I still don’t know who that is.”

“Still? What does—" Stiles’ face went blank, buffering. Abruptly, Derek heard Stiles’ heart rate spike violently. Derek frowned. Was he alright?

“Are you—”

“No.” Stiles choked out. Realization marred his features, his eyes going wide with shock as his mouth fell open. Miraculously, Derek got to watch Stiles’ face go through all five stages of grief in about ten seconds. It was all incredibly entertaining. Stiles stared at Derek in horror.

“Oh my god.” He choked out. Panic and embarrassment were rolling off of him in waves. 

“Are you okay?” Derek feigned ignorance, wanting to see if Stiles would address the chaos of last night on his own. He wanted to see what he would do, what kind of person he was. Derek had never interacted with a sober Stiles. This Stiles was completely foreign to him. Even if he did feel bad for the guy. Post-hangover humiliation was a bitch, even more so when you had two evil sisters (admittedly, Derek might’ve gone a little too hard the first time Peter had helped him get his hands on wolfsbane-infused tequila, but whose fault had that  _ really  _ been?).

“Dude, I am  _ so _ sorry.” Stiles scrambled. “Look, this is probably really obvious to you, but I don’t super remember anything at all except for like a handful of things but okay, you were definitely there while we were hosting our laundry tournament and shit,  _ please _ tell me I didn’t puke on because that’s super gross and I’ve done it to Scott before, but I feel like you seemed kinda nice so that would really suck. I didn’t, did I? It’s Erik, right?”

Derek had to stop himself from grinning. Maybe not so foreign.

“You didn’t. And no. It’s Derek.” Derek corrected. Stiles grinned, moving to run a hand through his hair only for his hand to hit his sunglasses. After a brief moment of confusion, he took them off and set them on his laptop before turning and digging through his bag.

“Derek! Thank  _ fuck  _ I didn’t vomit on you Derek, cause someone who knows where I live could  _ totally  _ destroy me. Also we’re going back to the whole Magneto thing because you were definitely kidding about not knowing who Magneto is, right?” Stiles’ eyes narrowed. Derek shook his head. Stiles gave him a look of mock disdain and stopped rummaging through his backpack, appalled.

“You’re kidding.  _ The  _ Magneto? AKA Erik Lehnsherr? AKA the Master of Magnetism? AKA the dude who  _ literally  _ ripped Wolverine's adamantium out of him through his pores in the  _ Fatal Attractions _ storyline?” Stiles demanded. 

Derek stared at him. Stiles whined and made an indignant choking noise that, if Derek was being honest, felt a little excessive. Clearly Stiles felt differently. Stiles also clearly didn’t need any more coffee; he was vibrating like he’d been electrified.

“Dude! The original X-Men villain!” He exclaimed, gesturing emphatically.

_ Oh _ . Derek thought.  _ That’s why. _

“I've only seen one of those movies.” He admitted. Stiles spluttered like he was about to have a conniption.

“You haven’t—don’t know _ —movies _ ?” He demanded. “ _ Movies _ ? You haven’t read—okay. Okay. Uncultured Derek? Look me in the eyes. Look at me, Uncultured Derek. Which movie did you see?  _ X-Men: First Class _ ?  _ X-Men: Days of Future Past _ ?  _ X-Men: Apocalypse _ ? Please  _ god  _ tell me it wasn’t  _ X-Men: Apocalypse _ , because that’s the shittiest one and everything after it is garbage.”

Derek hesitated. Stiles, apparently, was really into the X-Men.  _ Marvel’s  _ X-Men. Which meant Derek admitting he wasn’t uncultured but was, in fact, just more of a DC guy was definitely not going to help his chances with Stiles. This was dangerous territory. In all honesty, the names of the movies were actually starting to ring a few bells and Derek was pretty sure he knew which one Isaac had made him watch but he couldn’t help himself.

“I don’t know what it was called.” Derek told him. “It was the one with Hugh Jackman.” 

Derek immediately regretted his answer when Stiles looked absolutely ready to strangle him.

“Uncultured swine.” Stiles hissed, glaring teasingly at him over his coffee cup as he took another sip. Then something in his bag caught his eye and he brightened. “Ah-ha!’ Stiles pulled a glasses case out of his bag, opening it to put them on. “Oh, dude, we are  _ so  _ having a floor movie night. Scott has a blu-ray player and I have all the—wait, it is Derek, right? Sorry, I’ve already said Derek like ten times but I’m barely lucid right now. I wanna make sure.”

Derek blinked, dazed. Stiles in glasses was unbelievably distracting. He looked like Clark fucking Kent and Derek was  _ way  _ too into it. God, it was so unfair. Derek stared at him helplessly, firmly pretending his glasses kink didn’t have anything to do with Fifth-Grade-Derek's colossal crush on Superman. Well, Superman’s alter ego—all the looks of Superman and all the brains of someone struggling to juggle a double life. Superman had made Derek’s inner animal into a superhero instead of a monster. For a few short years, that is.

“Um, Earth to Man-Who-Is-Hopefully-Named-Derek?” Stiles cringed in anticipation, clearly under the impression Derek was icing him out for getting his name wrong. Derek snapped out of it and offered a nod.

“Yes. Derek.” He rushed out. Thank god his pack wasn’t here. They would have smelled his reaction in a second and absolutely slaughtered him for it. Placated, Stiles relaxed.

“I’m Stiles.” Stiles reached over and shook Derek’s hand. Derek grinned.

“I remember. That’s unique, I’m surprised they got your name down on your coffee order.” He said, nodding at Stiles’ cup.  _ S-T-I-L-E-S.  _ “Assuming they spelled it correctly. The last time I went in there, they spelled Deryyk with two Y’s.”

“Man, that’s bad.” Stiles laughed. “Yeah, I used to just tell them my name was John, but now Scott works there so I just go in during his shift. Totally not just for his 30% discount, by the way. He gets all blushy when the manager calls him adorable and it’s  _ hilarious _ . It’s the best thing ever.”

Derek’s heart sank.  _ Oh _ . “Scott?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah. You met him, right? I mean, you sort of met him. Probably. He’s one of my roommates. We grew up together. We met when we were like, five. Partners in crime at first sight.” Stiles made finger guns. “Scotty’s the best.”

Stiles kept talking, unconcerned. A moment or so later, he stopped and looked at Derek expectantly. Derek abruptly realized he hadn’t been paying attention and gathered he had been asked a question. He had no idea what it had been.

“What?” Derek managed. Stiles blinked.

“You...you had an exam, right?” He asked hesitantly. Derek gritted his teeth.  _ And you have a boyfriend.  _ He forced himself to relax and nodded quickly. 

“Yes.” Derek told him. Stiles waited and Derek realized he was expecting multiple words. “For Economics. I took it this morning but it was on paper so I won’t find out my score until next week.” 

Stiles nodded. “That sucks, man. Most of my exams are online cause they’ve got like coding and shit. My intermediate programming class is seriously kicking my ass right now.”

“Intermediate Programming?” Derek asked. “What’s your major?”

“Cyber Security and Risk Analysis.” Stiles told him. “I’m working on getting an internship with...well, this really important internship but it has GPA requirements and it’s not like I don’t know Python or JavaScript but I’m stupid and I took it concurrently with this class on data structures and it’s just so much outside work.”

“Yeah?” Derek managed. Stiles nodded. 

“It’s rough, dude. I’ve been running on coffee and RedBull for a month. I had a major mental breakdown an hour ago cause I failed this super tiny quiz. Awesome, right? So what do you wanna do? What are you studying?”

Derek thought about his answer before he responded. What Derek was really doing was studying architecture and economics so he could manage his family’s money and maybe refurbish their building, but somehow he felt like saying  _ I’m studying finance to manage my family’s enormous fortune _ was a bad idea.

“Business. Economics.” He said shortly. “The Economics of Business.”

“Dude! Awesome!” 

Stiles kept talking, generating paragraphs upon paragraphs for every one of Derek’s monosyllabic responses. Derek couldn’t look away. He’d never seen anyone speak with such passion about things as frivolous as class schedules and computers and—inexplicably—the migration habits of flightless birds. He really was  _ watching  _ Stiles speak, too. Stiles gesticulated wildly as he talked, his face bright and animated with delight in every word he spoke. Derek lost himself in Stiles’ voice. He could listen to Stiles for hours.

“Oh, shit!” Stiles jolted, catching sight of his watch. He shot up and shoved his laptop into his bag. “Dude, I’m sorry, I gotta go. I have class in—fuck, eight mintues, I gotta get outta here.” Stiles yanked a notebook out of his bag, scribbling something on it before handing Derek the entire notebook. 

“There. My number’s on there. And  _ now  _ you have to stop by to return my English notes.” Stiles flung his bag over his shoulders. “Otherwise that’s totally stealing. You know where I live, dude. See you at movie night, Business Man Derek.”

Stiles waved at him as he sprinted out of the library. Derek looked down at the notebook in his hands, grinning. Derek liked talking to Stiles. He  _ really  _ liked talking to Stiles. Stiles was funny and sweet and endlessly energetic. Stiles was brilliant. He was  _ beyond  _ brilliant.

And Stiles was dating Scott.

Shit, Derek was so screwed.


	3. Unspoken Rules and Twelve-Tuple Texting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has terrible texting grammar. Derek has annoyingly perfect texting grammar. Isaac is kind of a little shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene has texting and I’ve never written texting before, so please let me know if it’s confusing. Hope you like it! (Sorry for the delay, hope it turned out okay). Enjoy!!!

Derek stared at his phone for what felt like hours before he finally managed to send his first text to Stiles. It was probably his eighth draft  _ at least, _ but after lying awake all night stressing over that first message, he’d finally managed to come up with something that wasn’t terrible. It was clear and concise. It was informative, it was straight to the point. Perfect. 

**< Derek (library)**

Derek regretted it instantly. Words weren’t exactly his strong suit and he’d probably just ruined any chance he had with Stiles by texting like a robot. Thankfully, Derek was saved from agonizing over when Stiles would respond because his phone chimed with a text message less than two minutes later. Derek grabbed his phone off his bed, managing to wait a respectable ten seconds before reading the message.

_ > OMG that was ur first text??? _

_ > ur so professional _

**< How else would you have known who was texting you? **

**\-- Derek**

_ > Bc only u would hav perfect text-gramr _

_ > Nerd _

_ > Movie night=friday. Coming? _

_ > gotta return my english notes sometime ;) _

_ > Gonna hav 2 c me @ some point _

**< I can return your notes today if you need them. **

_ > Nah, its cool _

_ > I’ll get em whenever _

_ > I kNoW wHeRe YoU LiVe _

_ > lol _

_ > Get it? _

**< Yes, Stiles. I get it.**

_ > dude i can’t get over ur txtng _

_ > like,,,,,, a comma?? Periods???......?? _

_ > ur amazing _

_ > I feel like I’m texting captain holt _

_ > In a good way _

_ > obviously _

**< Who is Captain Holt? **

_ > what?????? _

_ > Asdlzieugxidgnjebk _

_ > Ok new plan _

_ > Movie night AND tv night _

_ > Wait _

_ > Let me put it in derek terms _

_ > Television viewing congregation at 7pm eastern standard time. Sincerely,,,,,, Mister Stiles Stilinski. _

Derek grinned down at his text messages, absurdly pleased over a fifteen minute text exchange.

“Shit. Somebody call Ripley’s, Derek’s face is  _ broken _ .”

Derek looked up from his phone, his small smile disappearing. Isaac snorted, shutting their door behind him as he jumped up onto Derek’s bed. Derek locked his phone, placing it on his bed frame. Isaac eyed him suspiciously.

“Derek, how many people are you texting?” He asked. “I could hear it buzzing from the hallway. I thought the only thing your phone did was make threatening phone calls and stalk your sisters.”

Derek glared at Isaac. “I don’t stalk them.”

“Yeah, because that was  _ your  _ Tinder profile that matched with  _ Ashley from Beacon Valley _ ?” Isaac teased. “Cora’s got game, Derek. You gotta give her space.” 

“I give space.” Derek protested.

“Those  _ totally legal  _ background checks on her dates say otherwise.” Isaac pointed out, nodding at Derek's computer. Derek scowled. “Do they ever even come up with anything?”

Derek paused briefly before responding. “Ashley had two unpaid parking tickets.”

Isaac burst out laughing. He stopped when Derek’s phone just about vibrated off his bed frame. Derek reached out, barely catching it before it tipped over. Isaac leaned over Derek’s shoulder. Derek elbowed him in the side and leaned away, swiping his phone open at an awkward angle.

_ > Sry i made fun of your txting _

_ > Movie night still ok? _

_ > Damn forget double txting _

_ > I think i just twelve-tuple txted _

_ > Is that a word?? Twelve-tuple??? _

Derek snorted.

**< No, it’s not a word.**

**< But yes, I’m fine with whatever you want to watch.**

**< Sorry for the delay, my roommate was interrogating me**

“Who’s that?” Isaac craned his neck. Derek scowled at him and lightly pushed him away.

“Someone on  _ my  _ phone. Meaning I’m having a private conversation.” Derek scolded. Hopefully his lack of an immediate response hadn’t upset Stiles too badly. Admittedly, it had only been a few minutes, but Stiles was clearly an avid texter. Derek, on the other hand, had sent more texts in the past twenty minutes than he had ever sent in his life and wasn’t sure how long he would have to wait for Stiles’ reply.

“Touchy.” Isaac huffed, sliding off Derek’s bed and walking across the room to slump into his desk chair. “It’s not like I’m not gonna find out.”

“It’s not a secret.” Derek countered. Fortunately, Derek didn’t have to wait long for Stiles to text back. Derek’s phone started buzzing again less than a minute later.

_ > 3 texts in a row!! _

_ > He lives!!! _ _  
_ _ > And u forgot the period on ur last 1!!!! _

_ > Im convrting u already _

_ > First the periods _

_ > Then the commas _

_ > Watch. next youll be using acronyms _

**< lol**

A loud crash came from the laundry room down the hall, a banging echo like someone had hit their head against one of the washing machines. Isaac glanced towards the laundry room, his eyes narrowed as if he could see through the wall. Derek listened intently and heard Stiles’ voice, faintly muttering curses to himself as he shuffled around righting his things. Derek grinned.

_ > Ur secretly hilarious _

_ > I knew it _

_ > interrogating u about what _

Is she hot?” Isaac asked. Derek looked over at him with a scowl. Isaac smirked at him. Derek huffed, resigning himself to Isaac’s prying.

“I’m not texting a girl.” He grumbled.

**< Who I’m texting.**

“Okay, well, is  _ he _ hot?” Isaac tried again. Derek responded with a withering look. “Come  _ on _ , I’ve been telling you about that cute guy in my photography class for like a week! And you smell happy for once  _ and _ you’re actually sending them multiple texts?  _ Laura _ doesn’t get multiple texts. Whoever that is, they’re getting the Derek Hale equivalent of standing outside with a boombox.”

_ > did u tel him teh truth & say ur txting sum1 so amazng its a gud thing im not ther bc he wud go blind from my glorius presence :0 _

“I’m not—it’s a friend.” Derek said a little too forcefully. “I’m texting my friend.”

**< I think I just went blind trying to read that message.**

**< Does your phone not have autocorrect? Or do you go out of your way to type like that?**

“Oh man. If only I was a werewolf who could hear lies.” Isaac gave him a pointed look. Derek ignored Isaac’s accusation in favor of his buzzing phone.

_ > disabled it _

_ > autocrects restrains my wild spirit _

_ > its a leash,,,,,,, a confining modern cage _

_ > dimnshes my personl charm _

Isaac’s eyes zeroed in on Derek’s phone, as though he was trying to use x-ray vision to look through Derek’s texts. “You’re really not gonna tell me? Not even a single, solitary detail?”

**< What a tragedy that would be.**

Derek hesitated. Isaac, sensing he’d caught Derek in a weak moment, leaned forward eagerly.

“He has a boyfriend.” Derek said shortly. If only to get Isaac off his back. If only to hear it be said out loud so he wouldn’t forget himself and respond to Stiles’ texts about his  _ personal charm  _ with something stupid. Isaac slumped back against the back of his chair again, defeated.

“Well that sucks.” Isaac muttered. “Are you sure?”

“It’s obvious.” Derek stared down at his phone, thinking.

_ > agreed _

_ > *c*H*a*R*m* _

Derek put his phone on silent and set it back on his nightstand, suddenly feeling like he’d done something wrong by texting Stiles. Which he hadn’t. Stiles had given him his number, Derek hadn’t asked for it. He couldn’t be faulted for that. And it would have been rude  _ not  _ to text him. Sure, Derek had texted him first but he hadn’t sent Stiles something that required a response. Stiles could have ignored him. Instead, he’d immediately texted Derek back. Rather enthusiastically, in fact. But maybe Derek had broken some sort of protocol and what he was doing was inappropriate. There had to be unspoken rules that existed when you were texting someone else’s boyfriend, Derek was sure of it. Except no one had ever sat Derek down and told him what the rules were and he  _ needed _ to know so he didn’t mess things up with Stiles because being friends with Stiles was better than no Stiles at all. But what if—

“Are you okay?” Isaac frowned at him. “You look pensive.” Derek ran a hand through his hair.

“I have a headache.” He said truthfully. Isaac’s frown eased into something more sympathetic. He felt the shift in Derek’s mood and let up, moving on to tactfully pretending Derek’s headache didn’t have anything to do with who he was texting.

“Do you still have those shirts Laura sent you?” He glanced around Derek’s side of the room.

“They don’t smell like pack anymore.” Derek shook his head, not at all thinking about how good it would feel to have something that smelled like Stiles.

Isaac watched him carefully, searching Derek’s face. Then he sighed. “You really like this guy, don’t you?”

Derek’s eyes darted over to his phone. “It’s not that simple.”

“But you...you’re sure he has a boyfriend?” Isaac asked gently. Derek glanced at the English notebook still sitting in his open backpack.

“Positive.”


	4. May the Geek be with You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek runs into Scott at the campus cafe and wishes he hadn’t. Stiles coincidentally runs into Derek after class. Scott tries to wingman for Stiles and fails miserably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I trying to make up for my huge writer's block delays by posting a super long part 4? maybe...  
> There's a few Easter eggs in there, comment if you find them <3  
> Please see the end for a list of all the shows/series mentioned that I do not own any part of, thank you! Enjoy!!! (Happy Star Wars Day!!!!!)

It was early in the morning and the cafe line was atrociously long. The only decent cafe on school grounds was inside the campus bookstore, always crowded with people and always over-stimulating—the heavy smells hanging in the air from the coffee, the flavor syrup, and the overworked college students were enough to give any werewolf a brutal cluster headache.

“Short, tall, grande, venti, or trenta?” 

“Grande.” Derek said shortly. “Grande Iced Americano.”

Oh, he had a crush on the barista's boyfriend.

“Will that be all?” Scott asked pleasantly. Derek could barely stand it.

“Iced Americano.” Derek repeated his order through clenched teeth. 

Derek’s desire to interact with Scott had been fairly low from the start. Now, on top of the deafeningly loud coffee grinder and the uncomfortably personal conversations he was being forced to overhear,  _ Scott _ appeared to be his new barista.  _ Scott. _

According to Stiles, Scott had only been on staff for a few weeks but he must have just started working the register because Derek definitely would have connected Scott’s coffee house job to  _ this _ cafe if he had seen him face-to-face. As it was, it was barely 9 AM and Derek’s relatively decent mood had been ruined because now….now he needed to find another coffee place. The worst thing was he couldn’t even use the caffeine—yet another drink his werewolf metabolism wouldn’t let him enjoy—but having something to drink kept him awake during class and nowhere else on campus used quality espresso. Now Scott was taking that from him too.

This would all be so much easier if Scott was an asshole.

“Name?” Scott smiled brightly at him. 

Derek hid his surprised relief by clearing his throat. “Derek.”

Scott paused, squinting at Derek as he tried to place his faint recognition of the name with what were most-likely hazy memories of Derek’s face. Words could not express how deeply Derek did not want that to happen. No part of him wanted Stiles’ boyfriend to remember a drunk Stiles clinging to Derek like a koala—the last thing he needed was for a jealous Scott to resent him....and keep him away from Stiles.

“My total?” Derek said quickly. Scott shook his head to himself, recovering his broad smile.

“Right. Great, that’ll be $2.60. Can I interest you in a rewards—”

“No.” Derek shoved three dollars at him and walked over to the waiting area. 

“Thank you!” Scott waved. Derek didn’t.

It was less than five minutes before the first round of morning classes started—about three minutes since Derek had placed his order—when a loud crash came from the front of the bookstore. Derek heard a familiar voice apologizing profusely for running into the display set up, then barely had time to prepare himself as Stiles rushed over in a whirlwind.

Stiles ran up with bright eyes, sprinting to the pickup counter and dinging the bell with a flourish. His hair was wild and gorgeous; his eyes wide with energy as he waited restlessly. 

In response, Scott picked up a cup next to his register and stretched to the side, sliding it over to the pickup counter and pushing a grease-stained bag along with it. Stiles grabbed them immediately, beaming.

“I love you, you’re the best! You’re amazing!” Stiles waved gratefully at Scott, already hurriedly backing towards the main entrance.

“Dude! That costs money!” Scott protested, only a little indignant. Stiles returned immediately, dashing to the register and shoving a handful of bills at Scott while shooting an apologetic look at the people in the front of the line.

“Sorry! Thank you! I’m sorry! See you tonight!” Stiles rushed out of the cafe with his red hoodie flying behind him like a threadbare cape, leaving Scott to cheerily deal with the disgruntled customers who were still waiting in line.

“ _ Congratulations, ma’am. You’ve won a prepaid bakery item for your patience. Can I interest you in our chocolate raspberry muffins?” _

Derek glowered at the pickup counter like it had personally offended him, then turned to glare at Scott. Sweet, sunny,  _ perfect  _ Scott was absorbed in talking to his next customer—a girl with ginger curls Derek thought he recognized as Lydia—and remained oblivious to Derek’s fury. Derek gritted his teeth as he waited for his order, leaning against a shelf of candy with a deep scowl. 

He was being ridiculous. He didn’t have the right to be this possessive over someone he’d known for such a short time. He  _ definitely  _ didn’t have the right to be angry at that person's boyfriend for being a reliable provider of overly greasy breakfast foods. Wanting things like that to be trusted to  _ him _ instead of Scott—wanting  _ Stiles _ to be his instead of Scott’s—was irrational and unfair.

“ _ Derek! Grande Iced Americano!” _

By the time his coffee was ready, Derek was desperate to leave. Scott and Lydia had started giving him weird glances. It was concerning, because they almost looked like they wanted to talk to him. Or rather, Scott did. Lydia looked like she wanted to  _ eat  _ him, and was eyeing Derek with a calculating glare over the top of her chocolate raspberry muffin. 

If Derek marched out of the cafe and exited the bookstore at a pace slightly too fast to be normal, no one had to know.

Once he was safely out of range, Derek’s walk slowed to a brooding silence. He was being absurd, really. Stiles was a real person who could make his own choices, and Stiles had chosen Scott long before Derek had even been in the picture. Derek’s desire for Stiles was a pipe dream, and a laughable one at that. After all, he’d only seen Stiles a handful of times. How difficult could it be to get rid of one little crush?

* * *

Very difficult.

Derek valiantly spent his entire economics class forcing himself to think about advertising strategies and compound interest formulas, an endeavor which lasted all of five minutes before _A=P(1+r/n)_ _nt_ turned into daydreams about what flavor coffee Stiles ordered. Thank god his sisters weren’t up here to see him pining like this—they’d tell him he was two steps away from doodling bright, sugary hearts all over his notebooks. Derek was crushing hard and it was pitiful. 

Even if Stiles was single, Derek would still be helpless. Derek had never been on a real date—something to be attributed to what Cora and Laura called _cripplingly poor social skills_ —and had never met someone he even remotely wanted to be with. But now there was Stiles. Vibrant, brilliant Stiles. Derek knew he shouldn’t feel this envious of Scott but _god_ , he wanted Stiles so badly it hurt. Maybe his social ineptitude was for the best. He’d have no idea what to do if Stiles _was_ available, much less have the knowledge or experience to successfully ask him out. 

Still, in the hours since Derek had seen him, he’d thought of nothing else but the man’s exchange with Scott. How casual they’d been with each other, how effortlessly their short conversation had come, how cute Stiles had looked in his patched-up hoodie. It was frustrating beyond belief. All throughout his classes, everything Derek saw seemed fit to remind him of what he couldn’t have. A boy with black-framed glasses, a girl in a deep red sweater, an abandoned coffee cup left on his lecture desk from a previous student. Things he saw on a daily basis that were now being consumed by his irresponsible crush.

It was this frame of mind that made Derek doubt himself when he caught sight of the  _ actual  _ Stiles on his route back to the dorms later that afternoon. A route nowhere near anything computer science related, but there he was. Derek studied him from across the sidewalk—definitely Stiles—and walked over, pleasantly surprised.

Stiles was sitting on a bench outside the Whittemore Finance Building, his leg bouncing restlessly as he scanned the area in between distracted glances at his phone. 

“Hey.” Derek offered. 

Stiles brightened immediately and grinned up at him, checking his watch before glancing at Derek’s coffee. It was Derek’s second cup. Which didn’t matter because he could only drink it for the taste anyways. Stiles, on the other hand, was visibly vibrating.

“Oh ho, please tell me Mister Dark-and-Brooding drinks half-caff soy caramel lattes.” Stiles’ fingers were wrapped around his own coffee, warming his hands on the stainless steel cup. Derek shook his head as he sat down.

“Please tell me your coffee isn’t polluted with 16 ounces of sugar. You’re hyper enough as it is.”

Stiles sniffed indignantly, taking a sip. “It’s black, thank you. As if I’d do anything to obstruct my caffeine intake.”

“Of course not.” Derek said lightly. “So what are you doing over here? Looking to learn about pricing models?”

“Over here?” Stiles’ heart rate ticked up, like the question had scared him and he was panicking internally. Derek’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Aren’t all your coding classes on the East side of campus?” Derek said carefully, not sure what he’d done wrong. “This is the West side, are you meeting up with someone?”

Stiles tensed. “Oh, I was maybe sort of waiting for...for Scott! Yeah, Scott. But I saw him already and he left so that’s why he’s not here. But you’re here now, that’s so random! Do you have class over here or something? What a...an accidental...um, how was your economics lecture?”

“Enlightening.” Derek managed.  _ Entertaining  _ was a better word, because Derek had wasted the entire period thinking of how Stiles’ mouth would look if he were drinking a foamed latte, but that wasn’t worth saying.

“Coolio.” Stiles immediately bit his lip in a cringe, clearly regretting his word choice. Derek rushed to move the conversation to a different topic, tearing his eyes away from Stiles’ mouth.

“Scott has classes over here?” He raised an eyebrow. Stiles nodded, his heart rushing so fast Derek was sure it could’ve been picked up by a human.

“Uh huh. Animal anatomy classes, that kind of stuff. He’s studying to be a vet, he even works at this clinic downtown. Deaton’s?”

Derek frowned. He hadn’t realized Deaton ran a legitimate practice. Still, Derek supposed offering supernatural consultations couldn’t keep a former emissary like Deaton busy all the time. Hopefully Stiles didn’t visit Scott at work too often. Derek shuddered at the thought of Deaton going anywhere near Stiles; something about the man had always rubbed Derek the wrong way. 

Stiles took his hesitation in a different way and fidgeted in his seat, flustered. “Okay, maybe you haven’t heard of it, but it’s totally real—I mean, it’s—Scott—yeah.” 

“That’s nice.” Derek managed, frowning again.  _ Scott. _

“Thank you for returning my notes. By the way.” Stiles added. “I could’ve just picked them up though, you didn’t have to leave them outside my door for me.”

“I thought it would be easier that way.” Derek said truthfully.

“Well, thanks. You know? Thank you.” Stiles ran a hand through his hair. 

“Of course.” Derek relaxed as Stiles’ scent rushed at him, losing himself in it for a moment as he stared at Stiles. When Derek refocused, he saw Stiles looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

“So, um...do you wanna get lunch? If you have time, that is. Cause I-I wanted to—uh, do you? Get lunch? Want to?” Stiles spoke so fast it took Derek a moment to process what he was being asked.

“You wanna get lunch with me?” Derek echoed. Stiles’ face fell.

“It’s fine. I just meant—” Stiles looked tightly wound and Derek wanted it to stop. 

“Yes.”

Stiles relaxed, tension falling out of his shoulders. “Really?”

Derek nodded. “Really.”

“Great!” Stiles grinned and jumped up, making sure Derek was beside him before proceeding to lead them through campus. As Derek followed, the other man’s familiar confidence returned in full force—if something had been holding him back before, it was long gone.

Suddenly Stiles’ arm was looped through his and Derek could feel the heat of Stiles’ skin through their shirt sleeves. He could hear the rush of blood roaring in his ears, his mouth going dry as his mind drifted to how Stiles had looked sprinting into the cafe this morning. His flushed face, his untamed hair, his hypnotizingly gorgeous hands—

“—and of course they were amazing, as  _ always _ . Always? Get it? You love them too, right? I’m re-reading them again and I  _ need _ vindication for my theories. I’m seeing new details the thirtieth time around and I’m spiraling. What’s your Hogwarts house?”

“Oh,” Derek desperately thought back to the few words of the conversation he’d managed to comprehend, “Hufflepuff.”

“Aww, that’s so cute.” Stiles drew his arm back and clutched his coffee to his chest. Derek’s wolf wanted to whine at the loss of contact. It helped though, when Stiles kept smiling at him. “Shit, you’re like a secret ball of sunshine, aren’t you?”

Derek looked determinedly down at his coffee, utterly bewildered. Never in his life had he been compared to anything remotely sunny. Not by anyone. No one before Stiles. “I don’t think—”

“Shut up, you totally are.” Stiles beamed. “Now I, of course, am Ravenclaw. I took the test about eight times because obviously to get accurate placement you should average your results then pick the one you got the most since they give you different questions every round so to make  _ totally _ sure, you have to figure out—”

“And after being proud of yourself for doing extra math, you were surprised you got Ravenclaw?” Derek asked lightly, recovering. Stiles snorted.

“Nah. I was a  _ little  _ surprised my runner-up was Slytherin.” He admitted. “But then again, I have broken the law, so…” Derek raised an eyebrow, skeptical. Stiles winked. Derek cleared his throat sharply. 

“You have not.” He managed. Stiles tugged on the drawstrings of his hoodie.

“Uh, tell that to the jackass captain of my high school lacrosse team.” Stiles snorted. Derek‘s eyes narrowed, playfully suspicious. “Okay, tabling the  _ Harry Potter  _ for now, but I might have totally illegally called his parents’ house impersonating the Sheriff since I knew Jackson was going to a party none of them invited me to and I wanted him to get busted for underage drinking. He was asking for it though. He ran practice like a drill sergeant and he wouldn’t stop hitting on my friends. And damn, was he pissed when Scott beat him out for captain our senior year.” Stiles grinned proudly through his gasp for air.

Derek frowned. “Wait, Jackson? Isn’t that the name of—”

“One of my roommates?” Stiles cringed. “Yeah, don’t tell him that was me. He’d literally rip me in half. He’s also not my roommate anymore, thank god. He’s gotten a  _ lot _ more tolerable since we graduated but he moved out to live with his boyfriend Danny because Scotty and I were too loud for him.” Derek went rigid but Stiles went on, oblivious. “I mean, Jesus, you play a few games of drunk  _ Mario Kart _ at 3 AM and all of the sudden it’s  _ Stiles, you’re a terrible roommate _ and  _ Stiles, don’t melt candy in the microwave _ and  _ Stiles, if you don’t call animal control, I will _ .”

Derek, near dizzy with relief, forced himself to speak. “Animal control?”

“It was a Chewbacca costume.” Stiles huffed. “Full suit and everything. Some people don’t appreciate quality art.”

Stiles dragged Derek into the student union building and pulled him down the main stairs. Unfortunately, Derek took an embarrassingly long amount of time to realize their detour into the student union building was not a detour and they were, in fact, going for their lunch in the cafe at the bookstore. 

“—did not deserve in the slightest  _ and _ I don’t think he’s even seen the movies! That’s  _ literally _ a galactic crime.” 

By then, it was too late to drag Stiles somewhere else and Derek had to let Stiles pull him towards the line. Derek cautiously glanced up at the counter. Thankfully Scott didn’t seem to be working right now. Having to watch Scott and Stiles interact as a couple while he stood to the side as an awkward third wheel wasn’t Derek’s idea of an enjoyable lunch.

Beside him, Stiles stared intently at the menu. “Okay. I come here all the time but I always get the same thing so maybe I’ll switch it up. What are you getting?”

“I usually—”

“Hey, dude! What’s up?” 

Derek froze. It was Scott’s voice, loud and excited—the last thing Derek wanted to hear right now. Everything Stiles had been doing in the last half hour (every thought Derek had been forcing to the back of his mind) rushed at him all at once and he tensed, closing off. 

Stiles turned as Scott pulled up behind them in line, his eyes falling on Derek. “Hey, I know you!”

Derek was never stepping foot in this cafe again.

“Oh, yeah?” Stiles managed. “I hadn’t—"

“I was in here this morning.” Derek said stiffly. Stiles, oddly enough, didn’t seem particularly happy to see Scott either. Probably Derek was projecting. Scott, however, looked positively thrilled.

“Yeah, but you were in our room too, right? I figured it out after you left. Stiles said you came over while we were, uh…” Scott scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “I mean, it probably wasn’t super clean when you came over, so sorry about that.”

“Yes, we’ve always been known for our tact and organization.” Stiles scoffed. “Now, uh, Scotty? Speaking of  _ tact _ —” Stiles gave Scott a sharp look. In response, Scott grinned slyly at him in an expression that reminded Derek strangely of his sisters. His cruel scheming sisters who constantly ganged up on him, so clearly this was not going to end well for him.

“So Derek? Stiles invited you to our movie night, right?” Scott asked innocently. 

“Yes. I did. We don’t need to keep talking about it.” Stiles’ eyes narrowed, almost glaring at Scott. Scott gave him a pointed look in return, and they struck up a furiously silent conversation.

Derek watched the two of them interact, seeing them communicate solely through facial expressions like they could read each other's minds. Scott ended it by turning to Derek, actively ignoring Stiles’ silent pleas. What his pleas were for, Derek had no idea.

“You’re coming, right?” Scott beamed at him. “You have to, okay? Seriously, I will hunt you down if you don’t come. We ordered an extended edition of  _ Return of the Jedi _ , it’s gonna be awesome. Though, fair warning, they’re not always well attended. And sometimes Lydia and Allison spring things on us at the last minute so it might end up being just you and Stiles—”   
  
“ _ Scott _ .” Stiles glared at him. Scott raised an eyebrow back at him, confused. 

_ What? _ Scott mouthed at him. Stiles’ heart was erratic as he looked between the two of them, seemingly struggling to think of a reason Derek couldn’t come to their movie night despite having already invited him. Stiles turned and gave Derek an awkward smile.

“It’s just, uh, not everyone likes that stuff and you seemed like you were into the stuff that maybe other people were into? Oh no. That doesn’t make sense. I just meant the extended version is like four hours long and it has DVD commentary. I wasn’t gonna make you watch that on our—at the movie night. I was gonna save that. For another time. But we can if you want! Only I thought you might think it was boring or too nerdy or—actually, I think this classifies as more of a geek thing than a nerd thing and paying attention to DVD commentary is like god-tier geek but...yeah.” Stiles’ heart was pounding. Scott eyed Stiles with a look of concern.

Derek’s eyebrows knitted together. “I like _Star Wars_.”  
  
“Awesome sauce.” Stiles choked out. Scott seemed to be trying not to laugh. Derek pursed his lips.“Stiles, I don’t have to come if you don’t want me to—“  
  
“What? Why wouldn’t you come? Of course I want you to come. It’ll be fun. _Star Wars_ is cool and you’re cool so like...it-it would work... _oh my god_.” Stiles trailed off. 

Derek felt terribly guilty. Even with the coffee shop overloading his senses, Derek could smell the anxiety rolling off of Stiles in waves. Was Stiles really that scared of Derek? Surely that couldn’t be it. 

Not knowing what else to do, Derek nodded slowly. “Okay. As long as you’re both fine with it.” He said, glancing at Scott. They nodded.   
  
“Perfect. We don’t have a lot of seating though. You guys might have to share a beanbag.” Scott added helpfully. Stiles looked like he wanted to die.  “Okay.” Derek attempted a smile.

“Oh! And, uh,” Scott paused, hesitant, “you’re roommates with Isaac, right?” 

“What?” Derek managed, thrown.

“He’s in one of my classes?” Scott asked hopefully. “Tall, blond, super h—uh, history major?”

Derek blinked. “Yes?”

“He can come too. If he wants.” Scott offered. “No big deal or anything.”

“Okay?”

“Really? Great!” Scott beamed. “See you guys then!”

Scott turned and left without staying in line to buy anything, awkwardly ducking around the three annoyed people in line behind him while apologizing copiously. He waved at Derek and Stiles again on his way out, grinning as he walked down and away to the lower level of the bookstore.

Stiles looked mortified. Derek waited for Stiles to start up their conversation again, but he went quiet in Scott’s absence. Their wait seemed like an eternity without Stiles' voice filling the relative silence. They’d been at the front of the line when Scott had left, and Derek finally said something after they pulled off to the side to wait for their orders.

“Stiles, I really don’t have to go. Not if you’d...if you’d rather spend time with Scott.” He forced out.

“Dude, what?” Stiles came back to life and dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “I’ve been excited for this all week, of course you’re coming. And I see Scotty every day. I’d rather be with you. I-I’d rather hang out with you, I mean. You’re still cool for tomorrow, right?”

Derek hesitated. “What are we doing, again?”

Stiles snorted. “Uh,  _ Brooklyn Nine Nine _ , only the fifth best TV show on the planet.”

“Fifth?”

“ _ Firefly, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine _ —“

“I thought you liked  _ Star Wars _ .”

“A man can appreciate a multitude of things, oh simple minded Derek.” Stiles reached up and poked Derek’s cheek. “Now let me finish my list, Sourpatch.”

“Please don’t call me that.” Derek protested faintly, his hands flexing as he stopped them from coming up to feel the skin Stiles had touched.

“Too late.” Stiles declared cheerfully. “And you’re about to hear my top ten list, so pay attention. It’s vital information.  _ Firefly _ ,  _ Star Trek: Deep Space Nine _ ,  _ Doctor Who  _ circa 2005,  _ Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Brooklyn Nine Nine, The Flash, Stranger Things, Batman: the Animated Series, Parks and Recreation _ , and  _ Supernatural _ .”

“ _ Supernatural _ ?” Derek cringed, not at all bothering to hide his distaste.  _ Supernatural _ was perhaps the most inaccurate thing Derek had ever had the displeasure of viewing. In terms of absurdity,  _ Supernatural _ was second only to  _ Scooby Doo _ , which at least had the excuse of being a children’s cartoon. Unfortunately the cast was gorgeous, and it was for precisely that reason that Laura, Erica, and Peter—god knows how that happened— loved it to pieces.

“Don’t hate!” Stiles shot back. “It’s ridiculous, it’s one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen.”

“You don’t watch it for the award-winning drama?” Derek asked dryly.

“Everything about it is award-winning drama because it’s won awards.” Stiles countered. “But no, of course not. I watch it because Scott hates it and it’s fucking hilarious. You don’t seem totally sold on Scott yet—which you will be eventually because he’s literally a puppy—but he’s not a die-hard fan of  _ Brooklyn Nine Nine _ , so it’ll just be us. That’s okay, right?”

Derek got a brief moment of respite to think about his answer while Stiles moved forward to pick up their order.

“As long as it’s okay with Scott.” Derek managed. Stiles frowned as he maneuvered them to a table, setting up their drinks and their sandwiches.

“Um, yeah?” Stiles sat down and took a bite of his club sandwich. “I don’t think he’s gonna be home. Or  _ dorm _ or whatever, but you know what I mean. It’s....it’ll just be us.” Stiles repeated, looking intently down at his lemonade.

Derek frowned as Stiles bit his lip, the usual undertone of anxiety in his scent heightening as he fidgeted in his seat, his fingers twisting his straw wrapper into little pieces. Obviously Derek had done  _ something _ to make Stiles so flustered all of the sudden, but Derek felt lost as to what exactly he’d done. There were lots of ways to fail socially, he’d found.

“You’re...the show we’re watching.” Derek said. He’d meant it to be some sort of question, but the words had gotten caught. Stiles looked up again at his words, his odd expression falling back into something more relaxed. Derek cleared his throat. “Um, has it always been your...fifth favorite?”

Stiles brightened. “No, but there’s actually a lot of really good shows on right now. Do you have a favorite?”

Derek hesitated. “ _ Star Trek _ . Original series.”

“Hate to tell you dude, but  _ Deep Space Nine _ is infinitely superior.” Stiles grinned. Derek gave a light chuckle.

“Well, it’s better than  _ Enterprise _ —”

“Everything’s better than  _ Enterprise _ .” Stiles scoffed. Derek nodded in agreement.

Stiles beamed, taking Derek’s nod as an invitation and excitedly starting in on the history between Vulcans and Romulans. Derek watched him gladly. Stiles was an easy person to have a conversation with. He never prodded Derek to respond or actively participate. Actually, he didn’t have to. With Stiles, Derek  _ wanted  _ to offer his opinion. And when those opinions were deemed “wrong”, Stiles argued passionately, somehow talking animatedly without making anything feel awkward or forced. But really, Stiles just seemed happy to have someone listening to him. Derek could be that. 

Their Stiles-driven conversation carried them through the rest of their lunch then back out through the bookstore. Derek barely noticed they’d moved from their spot in the cafe until they made it outside—Stiles was the only thing he was paying any attention to.

“So just, just double checking again.” Stiles scratched the back of his neck, shifting as they pulled off to the side in front of the student union building they’d just exited. “We’re totally on for tomorrow?”

“Of course.” Derek nodded. Stiles beamed, his scent flooding with happiness. Derek smiled back. 

“Great! See you later, Derek!” Stiles grinned. “Remember, tomorrow night!”

“Yeah. Tomorrow.” Derek watched as Stiles split off, heading back towards the East side of campus, waving earnestly.

Derek waved back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only tagged the major ones because some of them were literally only mentioned once, but there were a LOT of them, so here goes. I do not own/am not affiliated with: Teen Wolf, Harry Potter etc., Supernatural, Star Wars, Brooklyn Nine Nine, Scooby Doo, Firefly, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: Original Series, Star Trek: Enterprise, Doctor Who, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The Flash, Stranger Things, Batman: the Animated Series, or Parks and Recreation.


	5. The Name of the Game (Nice to Meet You)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac has a date. Scott is adorably enthusiastic. Stiles wants to hit himself in the face. Derek is awkwardly confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PART 5!! I’m so glad you guys liked this, please let me know what you think in the comments. I’m sorry this took so long, I just had to do this moment the justice it deserved. Enjoy!!!
> 
> ATTENTION!! This is the first chapter that was not originally published as a separate work. Again, I’m sorry if the change in formatting was weird for anyone, I just feel like it makes more sense this way. 
> 
> Special thanks/apologies to Maia_Nebula (your comments are so cute!!), beautyziamkiss, and JudgeH because you guys bookmarked every work in this series!!! Again, those works will be absorbed into this one as chapters, but I do plan on taking them down in a week or so (if I remember, lol) seeing as there’s no need to publish them twice.

_ > Thors-day night _

_ >u know what that means _

_ >noine noine! _

_ >(youll get it when we watch the show) _

_ >6:45 sharp _

_ >prepare 2 b edjumacated _

_ >ur stil coming rite? _

Derek stared at his phone, torn, then set it back down on his mattress.

It would be better for everyone if he cancelled. Better for Stiles, better for Scott—not better for Derek, but no one cared about Derek so that shouldn’t matter. Derek didn’t even have to _look_ at Stiles to cancel on him, so why was it so hard? 

On the other hand, talking to people was a casual, normal thing to do. Not for Derek, but Scott and Stiles didn’t know that and making friends wasn’t _illegal_ . Admittedly, Stiles was Derek’s _only_ college friend—Isaac didn’t count—and most people didn’t lose themselves in inappropriate daydreams about their friend’s hair or eyes or voice or smile or….everything.

Derek huffed in frustration and scowled up at his ceiling, his hands resting behind his head to keep himself from getting too stressed and releasing his claws. Skin healed. Replacing damaged comforters was expensive. 

Derek’s phone buzzed again. He ignored it. Replacing phones was expensive too.

Stiles had been texting him all day, profoundly excited about their TV date. Which it wasn’t. A date, that is. True, Stiles might be disappointed if he cancelled, but Derek could come up with an excuse for that. A rare illness, maybe. What he couldn’t come up with was an excuse that would save him if he tried to kiss Stiles. Because he would. If they were alone together, pushed up side to side on the couch in a dark room, Derek didn’t know if he would be able to stand it. And if he couldn’t? Then he would lose Stiles. And Stiles might lose Scott.

Derek was saved from his inner turmoil when, with an odd sense of _deja vu_ , the door swung open. Derek sat up, frowning as the door was shut with a flourish.

“I have a date!” Isaac strode into their room and collapsed onto his mattress, beaming. He sighed happily, his scent flush with excitement. Derek raised an eyebrow, locking his phone and putting it to the side.

“With what, your comforter?” He asked dryly. Derek thought he was hilarious. No one else did. Case in point, Isaac sat up and rolled his eyes. 

“Just because you suck at feelings doesn’t mean I can’t have any.” He said. Derek nearly growled in response, before realizing such an act would only further cement Isaac’s low opinion of his emotional range.

“I can be...fine. Who is he?” He asked. Isaac beamed. 

“He’s _gorgeous_ .” Isaac came over to sit next to Derek. “Remember that guy I met in my photography elective?” Derek nodded. “He’s taking it with one of his friends as his general art credit and he’s _so_ cute, Derek. He’s so so nice and he’s insanely hot _and_ he said that we should totally try adding wolfsbane to _RedBull_ because it gives it this extra—”

“Wait.” Derek cut him off, gesturing for him to stop. Isaac shrank into himself, quieting down immediately. Derek lowered his hand before he went on. “Wolfsbane?”

“Yeah, he’s...an Alpha.” Isaac said, his hands flexing nervously. “He, um, also may or may not be coming over here in a few minutes but he’s just picking me up, I swear. We won’t bother you or anything. His roommate’s having someone over so we’re going to a movie downtown.” Then, more to himself than to Derek, “Seems kinda rude I haven’t even met the guy and he’s already sexiled me, but—” 

“He’s coming _here_?” Derek stared at Isaac like he was an idiot. 

Isaac frowned. “Yeah? So?”

“You invited an Alpha you know nothing about into our dorm?” Derek clarified. 

“Yes?” Isaac cringed in anticipation. Derek sighed, crossing his arms.

“Do you know what pack he’s from?” He started. “Does he _have_ a pack? Are they here at school with him? Do they know who _we_ are? Isaac, we don’t know anything about him. I really wish you had said something to me first before inviting him over. A warning, at _least_.” Isaac pursed his lips, then nodded in agreement.

“Okay, you’re right, I’m sorry.” Isaac rushed out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that and I should have but he-he’s super sweet and he lives right next door. It’s not like he didn’t already know where we live. I mean, he knows _now_ , for sure. I don’t know about you but I can’t smell anything over all the basement mold and laundry mildew down here. Even Scott says he hasn’t been able to smell anything but burnt sugar for weeks.” 

Derek froze. _Scott_ . “Wait. Go back.” He managed. _Surely not_. Isaac misunderstood his confusion.

“I know. Horrible, right? One of his roommates fucked up their microwave trying to melt a bunch of candy and it exploded fiery Sour Patch Kids all over their floor. It’s disgusting.”

“No, what do you—”

There was a knock at the door and Isaac jumped up to answer it. “That’s him!”

Derek felt like he couldn’t move, his whole body stiff but wired. He was wrong, of course. He was being ridiculous. Lots of people were named Scott. Scott, Derek’s neighbor, _Stiles’ boyfriend,_ was not about to be in their dorm room with the intention of going on a date with Isaac. Derek was wrong, surely. Stiles and Scott have known each other their entire lives. He wouldn’t do that. Scott would never—

“Derek, say hi—Scott, this is my roommate, Derek Hale. Derek, this is Scott.”

Scott froze as he entered the room, looking at Derek in surprise, then at Isaac with wide eyes. Isaac tensed, unsure of where he’d gone wrong. Then Scott turned back again and stared at Derek in shock. Derek glared at him, furious. What the hell was wrong with this guy? Isaac was obviously happy to be with Scott. Yes, Derek hated that he was about to ruin that, but this couldn’t be allowed to go on. Stiles deserved so much more than this, _Isaac_ deserved so much more than this, and Scott was...Scott wasn’t at all what Derek had thought he was, Scott was a complete—

“Oh shit, you’re Derek _Hale_?” Scott choked out. 

Derek tensed immediately, a violent panic overcoming his anger. Now that he knew Scott was a werewolf, hearing that kind of recognition in his voice had a different meaning entirely—a tone like that could mean anything from _I’m sorry for your loss_ to _I want your territory and don’t care how I get it_. Derek’s eyes darted to Isaac, who seemed equally lost but didn’t appear to be in imminent danger. Scott’s focus was zeroed in on Derek.

“Yes. And?” Derek said stiffly.

“Dude, you’re like, werewolf royalty.” Scott whispered to him, floored. “You have the biggest pack network in North America. You’re a total urban legend—the rest of your family too. You guys are so cool, man.” 

Surprised, Derek ran through a torrent of emotions before settling on extremely confused. Scott was staring at him in awe. _No one_ stared at Derek like that without fear in their eyes. It was uncomfortably off-putting. And it was enough to pull him back into his anger.

“Oh man, this is so awesome.” Scott went on, oblivious. “I can’t believe you’re—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Derek demanded. Scott’s worshiping expression twisted immediately, flinching at Derek’s outburst. Isaac took a small step back, reaching out for Scott. Derek growled at him and Isaac dropped his hand.

“Shit, did I offend you?” Scott backtracked. “Wow, I’m so weird. I’m so sorry, man. You’re just really—”

“How could you ask out Isaac?” Derek forced out. “Are you just that much of an inconsiderate asshole? Why would you play with Isaac’s feelings like this when you’re dating Stiles? And _Stiles_? Stiles talks about you a lot, Scott. He obviously cares about you and I don’t understand how anyone could be conceited enough to think this is okay.” 

Scott’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. Then he cringed violently, seemingly about to be sick. “Oh my god, what?”

Isaac looked like he wanted to shoot himself. “Scott, I am so sorry.” He said quietly.

Derek turned to him with a look of disbelief. “Why are you apologizing to him? He’s the one cheating on Stiles!”

“Who’s cheating on Stiles?” 

The three werewolves turned to look out into the hallway. Horribly, Stiles was standing in the open doorway with an unused bag of popcorn. He was wearing his glasses again—god, Derek was going to hell for his fantasies about those stupid glasses—and he looked so confused it made Derek feel sick. Derek couldn’t even find it in himself to say anything; nothing he could offer would be able to help. Every word he wanted to say felt like a rock in his throat. 

“Me, apparently.” Scott managed. 

Stiles snorted, leaning back against the door frame. “Gross, what?”

Then he took in the scene in front of him. His eyes landed on Scott’s grimace, on Isaac’s exasperated expression, on Derek’s scowl. His face fell. “Wait...wait, shit. Derek, did you for real think Scott was cheating on me? You thought I was dating Scott?”

“Uh, yeah, he did.” Scott answered for him, visibly disturbed. Isaac watched the scene unfold with an odd curiosity. Derek felt speechless. _What was going on?_

“No wonder you weren’t responding to my suave courting advances.” Stiles said dimly, shocked. Scott looked personally offended.

“Yeah, no shit. And no offense, Stiles? But gross. So gross. You’re my bro, I can’t believe he—” Scott turned back to Derek with a shudder, “—I can’t believe _you_ thought we were dating. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you tried to chew me out for being a dick—cheating is so not cool—but you’re a scary dude. I thought you were gonna _eat_ me.”

Derek blinked, struggling to process the availability of Stiles. Single and available Stiles who had apparently been projecting _suave courting advances_ at Derek. _Stiles wanted him too_. Derek’s wolf would’ve howled in triumph if he wasn’t so stunned. Instead, terrified of embarrassing himself further, Derek struggled to work his thoughts into a non-incriminating sentence.

“I...I don’t...Stiles?” Derek turned to Stiles helplessly. Stiles stared back at him.

“Wait, are you into him?” Scott’s demeanor changed instantly. He brightened, his eyes going wide again. Stiles snapped out of his daze and glared at Scott.

“Dude, shut up!” He hissed, elbowing Scott in the side. Derek didn’t know what to say. Stiles had been touching Derek and talking to Derek constantly for the entire week, far more than any non-pack-member ever had. Suddenly it seemed much more intentional, and if Stiles wasn’t dating Scott, then Stiles must have been—

“You are, right?” Scott pushed, delighted. Stiles, on the other hand, looked like he was praying to be struck by lightning.

“Derek, I’m so sorry.” He said gently. “Don’t listen to him. Ignore him. Ignore _me_ , for that matter. You don’t have to—”

“I could never ignore you.” Derek said quickly, his eyes locked on Stiles. Scott exchanged a pointed look with Isaac as their friends stared blankly at each other, lost in hope and confusion. 

“So that’s a yes?” Scott prodded encouragingly.

“Yes.” Derek breathed.

Stiles blinked owlishly, grappling to hold onto the popcorn bag when it nearly slipped out of his hands. “You...yes?” He said hoarsely. “As in you-you wanna—you’re into me?”

“Yes.” Derek repeated, stunned.

“Thank _god_ .” Isaac said, turning to Scott as if Derek and Stiles had left the room. “He’s been moping at me for days. It’s like his default mode reset to Hale bitchface—way scarier than it sounds, by the way. All four of them have it and it’s _terrifying_.”

“Hale?” Stiles snapped out of his daze, the stars in his eyes fading into the background. “Like _Hale_ Hale? _The_ Derek Hale?”

“What about me is so important that you have to say my name like _that_?” Derek asked finally. 

“I told you! You guys are legends.” Scott breathed out, stunned. “You can’t be a werewolf and _not_ know who the Hales are. Man, I had no idea you were still in college. I thought you were like, forty.”

“He’d better freaking not be.” Stiles muttered. Derek snorted.

“I’m twenty two.” He offered. “I’m a junior though, I had some...hold ups. But after I graduate, I’ll still be here for grad school—mainly to keep an eye on Isaac.”

“Pretty sure Laura phrased that the other way around.” Isaac muttered. Derek scowled. Isaac made a face at him. Scott, having been reminded of his _Ode to Hale_ , immediately started gushing again.

“Shit, this is insane.” He managed. “How can you have no idea how cool this is? I mean, Derek—I can still call you Derek, right?” Derek shrugged. “Derek, everyone hears stories about you but you’re never actually seen anywhere so I thought—oh my god,” Scott turned to Isaac, “oh man, You’re Isaac Lahey, aren’t you? I asked out Isaac Lahey and he said yes. Holy _shit_.”

Isaac’s head tilted to the side, adorably confused. “You’ve heard of me?”

“Duh.” Scott grinned. “You’re in the Hale inner circle, you guys rock! I—“ Scott paused, a new thought dawning on him. He beamed. “Oh man, our pack’s gonna be so awesome. Can you imagine how awesome we’d be if all of us were together? I have a thing with your Beta—”

“Laura’s Beta.” Derek corrected easily, sharing a distressed look with Isaac. God help their pack if Derek ever became the Alpha.

“—you have a thing with my emissary, Kira’s been—”

“ _Stiles_ is your emissary?” Derek cut him off.

Stiles grinned. “You think anyone else could mismanage this poor sweet dumbass? Beacon Hills would be lost without me.”

“Beacon Hills?” Derek frowned. “I thought that area was McCall territory.”

Scott gave a sheepish grin, oddly bashful. Stiles responded for him with a snorting laugh. “Yeah, don’t let the whole _True Alpha_ thing scare you. I hear he’s a mushy marshmallow.” Stiles poked Scott in the side. Scott smacked Stiles’ hand away. Stiles hit him back then dodged out of Scott’s reach, nearly jumping into Derek. Scott pouted.

“ _Not cool. Quit it_.” Scott hissed at him, embarrassed. Stiles shot him a mocking, pitying expression. Derek wanted to kick himself for ever thinking these two were dating; he felt like he was watching Cora and Laura playfight—minus the manicured claws.

“ _You’re_ Scott McCall?” Isaac burst out. Scott scratched the back of his neck, sheepish.

“Yeah? Does that bother you?” He asked, worried.

Isaac stared at him. “Dude...we seriously should have exchanged last names.”

Derek gave a sharp laugh. Stiles turned his attention back to Derek, smiling shyly. Stiles bit his lip, rocking slightly on his heels before reaching over and setting his popcorn on top of Derek’s desk.

“Uh, hey, why don’t you guys go catch your movie?” Stiles suggested to Scott. “I wanna talk to Derek without you slobbering him in fanboy lust.”

Scott made a face. “Don’t be gross, dude.” He grabbed Isaac’s hand and moved to pull him out the door. “If anyone has Derek-lust, it’s you.” Scott left. Isaac gladly followed him out the dorm. 

Stiles looked intently at his popcorn, his earlier embarrassment returning. Derek hates pauses like these—the silence is always deafening. Especially terrible were moments where it’s _him_ who’s supposed to be doing the talking, but Derek had no idea what to say. What _is_ he supposed to say here? _I’m sorry I thought you were dating your Alpha then yelled at him for fake cheating on you? I’m sorry for having no idea you were involved with werewolves while also having no idea you were flirting with me?_

God, that’s too many words. 

Thankfully Stiles spoke up before Derek was forced to say something.

“I-I broke our microwave.” He managed, nodding at the popcorn. “We have to use the one in the lounge. So that’s why I was out. With the popcorn.”

“I’m...sorry for being terse with Scott.” Derek offered stiffly, unsure. Stiles began to relax, a hint of a grin making its way back onto his face. 

“Totally fine.” He said, gaining confidence. “I would’ve done about the same. Cheating is...cheating sucks. It’s all good though. Scott and I have known each other since preschool, Sourpatch. You don’t have anything to be jealous about. Oh! Or should I be calling you Sour _wolf_ now?”

“Please don’t.” Derek said tiredly.

“Nope. You’ve been re-christened.” Stiles said proudly. “Don’t worry though. I know you’re a big nerdy Hufflepuff behind all your scowly-growly. Not to mention the jawline, or the muscles, or the sexy brooding, or the...and now I’m just talking about how hot you are so I’m gonna shut up.”

“No, continue.” Derek said flatly. Stiles laughed. 

“I, uh, I think the werewolf world will be a little disappointed to know what a big sweet softie you are, by the way.” He teased. “Your name has a total fear factor thing going on—honestly, I pictured you being seven feet tall, at _least._ ”

“Honestly?” Derek confessed. “I’ve heard a lot about you and Scott as well. I admit, I...may have been picturing your pack in a similar fashion. It’s not often one hears about a werewolf pack with almost no werewolves in it—I had no idea kanimas were still in existence.”

Stiles snorted. “Don’t worry about Jackson. He got over himself; he can’t even go full lizard anymore.”

“ _Jackson’s_ your kanima?” Derek exclaimed. Every time he thought his confusion was ending, it returned with full force. Though being part reptilian certainly suited what he’d heard (and, quite briefly, _seen_ ) of Jackson.

“Unfortunately.” Stiles grumbled. “But we wanted Lydia, and Jackson comes with her. And Danny comes with Jackson but everybody likes Danny, which is great because Danny could totally destroy us.”

“Is Danny the kitsune?” Derek asked. 

“Nah, he’s a hacker.” Stiles grinned. “But damn, you really read up on us, huh?”

Derek scratched the back of his neck, feeling his skin start to heat up. “Only because your pack moved into our old territory. We’re mainly in New York now, but we were planning on moving back because nearly all of us are going to college in California. Then we heard about Scott. Laura, my alpha, she had us all reading up on banshees and were-coyotes so we could prepare to approach _Alpha McCall_ and his pack about our return.”

“Oh shit, really?” Stiles’ eyes went wide. Derek frowned slightly.

“Yes. In the most amicable way possible, of course. We left that territory behind; it belongs to Scott now. Speaking of which, I thought the McCall Emissary was…” Derek’s eyebrows knitted together as he tried to remember how to say the name.

“Mieczysław.” Stiles said easily. “Emissary's need to identify themselves to others with their true name, but when your true name is a Polish keyboard-smash, you either get tormented in middle school or you find something else so...I’m a Stiles.” He shrugged, grinning. “Also, it should be said I totally called it. You guys are the werewolfiest werewolves to ever werewolf.”

“Excuse me?” Derek managed. _He knew_? 

“Dude,” Stiles gave him a pointed look, “don’t play yourself.” Derek raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. Stiles scoffed, indignant. “That’s so unfair, man. What are you, an expert in eyebrow language?”

“Not in _eyebrow language_ , no. In other things, maybe.”

Stiles laughed sharply. “Oh my god, did Derek Hale just make a sex joke at me?”

Derek’s brows furrowed in protest. “I make jokes all the time.”

“Your general hilariousness is different than a legendary figure—”

“ _—legendary—”_ Derek scoffed to cover his surge of embarrassment.

“—making sex jokes at me. This is the best day of my life.” Stiles insisted.

It was shaping up to be one of the best days of Derek’s life, too. For one, he’d never had any non-destructive romantic interests before. For another, everything about Stiles’ existence was mesmerizing. And now, knowing Stiles wanted Derek the same way Derek wanted him? It was almost too much. Derek wanted desperately to wrap Stiles in his arms, to keep him safe and happy.

“Better than that time the vending machine gave you two Reeses cups?” Derek said instead, swallowing thickly.

“Sooo much better.” Stiles promised. He paused thoughtfully before continuing. “Also, I know we should probably talk more in depth about the whole _werewolf_ thing seeing as we’re both neck deep in supernatural shenanigans,” he reached for his popcorn and held it up, “but if there’s any chance you wanna postpone that talk till later and just hang out tonight, I’m down.”

Derek hesitated. The fog of confusion shrouding his brain was beginning to clear and Derek could now distinctly remember Isaac complaining about being sexiled. Was this meant to be a date? Had it _always_ been a date? What was Derek meant to do here? 

Stiles watched him carefully, hopeful. Honestly, Derek was astounded his efforts to stay away from Stiles had lasted this long. It said a lot about his self control, really, he thought. Though now that they had all cleared the air…

Derek pursed his lips. “Stiles—”

“Look, I really like you, man. Whatever you wanna do tonight is cool with me. Scott and Isaac should be out for a while. I mean, the show starts in like five minutes but honestly we can just chill. Zero preference. Of course—”

“ _Stiles_ —”

“—obviously if you wanna talk now we can. We’ve got a _lot_ to talk about. I only meant maybe it would be better to wait until Scott and Isaac get—”

“Stiles, please don’t talk about Scott right now.”

Derek reached forward and pulled him in, kissing him deeply as he finally found what he’d been craving for so long. Stiles made a noise of surprise before he relaxed into the kiss, his hands bracing themselves against Derek’s chest before gripping the fabric of Derek’s shirt, pulling him impossibly closer as he fought for more contact, for more of Derek. All thoughts of self control left Derek’s mind the instant he felt Stiles’ lips against his, felt the heat of Stiles’ skin envelop him as the warmth of their embrace spread through his body. It was far better than anything he had imagined himself—it was pure desire.

Impressively, Derek eventually remembered to breathe and reluctantly pulled away—just enough for the two of them to catch their breath. Stiles was breathless as well, Derek noted pleasantly.

Yet it didn’t stop him from immediately speaking.

“You-It’s, um, it’s recorded, so let-let’s just stay in here and make out because really, we don't even have to see the—”

Derek reached past him and pushed the door closed, his eyes glowing a brilliant gold. Stiles stopped talking, his remaining words lost as his eyes locked onto Derek’s. The scent of their combined arousal was overpowering, and it forced Derek to remember himself and use every ounce of willpower he had not to bite Stiles. To mark him, claim him. _Mine_ **_._ **

“Good.” Derek growled. He kissed him again, bracing Stiles against the partially open door and effectively slamming it closed. Stiles fell back slightly, openly eager as Derek’s hands ran down his arms.

“You’re so right. Fuck the show. Let’s make out. Shut up and kiss me” Stiles said breathlessly, his eyes devouring Derek.

Derek raised an eyebrow, amused. “One of us does need to shut up, but I promise you it’s never been me.”

“Quiet you. I’m a prize.”

“Yes you are.” Derek hummed in agreement, pressing a kiss to the edge of Stiles’ jaw. Stiles huffed in mock annoyance to cover his gasp. 

“You are such a sap, Sourwolf.”

“ _Stiles.”_

“Yep! Shutting up now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think OR if you have issues due to the change I made in formatting (just making it multi-chapter instead of a series btw; the story is exactly the same)
> 
> One more to go!!! :)


	6. Sisters and Starlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay! I originally had an entirely different chapter, but it skipped Sterek’s first date and I realized I definitely couldn’t do that so I had to write an entirely new one. Again, so sorry for like, double the wait. I think the length (it’s the longest one yet!) might make up for some of that :( Hope you like it!!! I thrive on comments <3

“ _Oh my god, let me see him, let me see him!”_

“He’s not here yet, Laura.”

“ _Is that Derek? Did you finally get him?”_

On the other side of the screen, Cora grabbed the phone from her sister. Derek sighed, vehemently regretting his communication choices. He should have known better than to take their call when he _knew_ Isaac had been feeding them information. Or rather, he should have known better than to tell Laura and Cora he had a date tonight, then proceed to ghost them immediately when his phone started blowing up with an overwhelming number of messages. Meddling sisters were a force to be reckoned with.

Cora, for example. “ _Is Stiles there? What does he look like? Is he hot?”_

“I’ll hang up on you.” Derek warned. “Don’t think I won’t.”

 _“You won’t.”_ Laura grabbed her phone back, sitting down on the couch in their den while Cora squished into the frame next to her. Laura rolled her eyes at her sister and set her phone down at an angle, resting it against something on their coffee table as they leaned forward on the couch. 

On the other side of the call, Derek rotated his phone to match theirs, leaning it back against a large textbook on the top shelf of his desk. It was Friday evening and Derek was listening to his video call with Bluetooth earbuds while he waited for Stiles and Isaac to get back from their study session in the library. Isaac, as it turned out, was in the same _Intro to Psychology_ class as Stiles and—due to the large number of students in their lecture—they’d had no idea until this morning. Oh, the things you can learn with an open line of communication.

To pass the time, Derek had been panicking about their date for the last two hours. Then Laura had sent him a strongly worded text claiming that if Derek didn’t call his sisters this instant, he wouldn’t be alive long enough to go on his date. In response, Derek had wisely answered their next call and was now suffering through a pre-date interrogation. 

“ _If you don’t send us a picture, I’m going to assume he’s fake.”_ Cora said airily. 

_“Are you kidding?”_ Laura argued. _“Look at him! When was the last time Derek went anywhere without that stupid leather jacket?”_

“It’s not—it’s functional.” Derek glowered at the camera, then ducked out of view to look at his outfit in the mirror for the eighth time. _Should_ he be wearing his jacket? What if Stiles was expecting it? What if Stiles didn’t like the way Derek looked in a button down and dark wash jeans? What if Stiles made fun of him for wearing nice shoes when they were only going to the ice cream parlour on the North side of campus? What if—

 _“I don’t know, seems like a sob story to me. Poor sad lonely Derek all by himself, all the way across the country in California with no one to share his mushy gushy feelings with_ — _"_

“Shut up, Cora.” Derek cut her off, fresh annoyance pulling him out of his inner monologue. “If I was making up a fake boyfriend, why would I say he’s Alpha McCall’s Emissary? What good could that possibly accomplish?”

“ _I don’t know, Der. You’re pretty stupid.”_ Cora said thoughtfully. Laura giggled.

“Right. Great talk.” Derek made a show of moving his finger towards the _End Call_ button. Laura protested instantly.

“ _No, wait! She’s sorry_ —”

 _“Nope.”_ Cora cut her off with a sharp laugh. Cora was completely baffled by the idea of Derek being socially-competent enough to land himself a date and was thoroughly amused with the entire process.

 _“Just send us a picture_ .” Laura pleaded. _“Come on. You owe us that much.”_

“I don’t have any.” Derek lied, averting his eyes to adjust his collar. What was a good number of buttons to have open? One? Two? Zero?

“ _Lies!_ ” Laura called him out. “ _Derek, there’s no way you don’t have pictures. Please?”_

Derek did have pictures of him and Stiles, but those were for his eyes only and could not be allowed to fall into his sisters’ clutches under any circumstance. Yesterday, Isaac and Scott had come back from their date to find their roommates asleep on Scott’s couch while Stiles’ laptop cycled through _Brooklyn Nine Nine_ episodes without them. Purely out of malicious intent, Isaac had taken a handful of poorly lit, out-of-focus shots of a yawning, cuddly Stiles draping himself over a sleeping Derek like a human blanket. They looked....cute. Still—

“No.”

 _“Really.”_ Cora said dryly, raising an eyebrow.

Derek forced an overly-casual shrug. “What?”

 _“Der, you made a move on this guy after a_ **_month_ ** _.That’s hyper-speed in Derek-time. How can you not have evidence?”_ Laura demanded. 

“I’ve known _of_ him for a month.” Derek corrected, exasperated. “And that was because he and his roommate have atrocious taste in music. We’ve only been on a face-to-face basis for a week, Laur. We’re not even officially dating yet, I just…” Derek pursed his lips, cutting himself off. Saying _I just talked about Stiles so much that you assumed we were already together_ wouldn’t do him any favors.

“ _All forms of dating are official, sweetie.”_ Laura informed him. Cora nodded in agreement. “ _Come on, Derry! You watch movies together, you get coffee together, you hang out with him and his friends constantly—”_

“Every one of those activities has happened exactly once.”

 _“Isn’t Isaac dating one of them too?”_ Cora wondered.

“Scott.” Derek supplied easily, distracted in his search for his cologne.

 **“** **_McCall?!”_ **

Both of Derek’s sisters shrieked at him at once, their cries nearly piercing his ear drums. Derek cringed, reflexively pulling his earbuds out at the noise, then moving forward and killing the Bluetooth connection in an effort to save his sensitive ears.

“Ow.” He muttered, glaring at them. They didn’t notice.

_“Alpha McCall? Oh my god, what the hell is wrong with you? Why didn’t you tell us he’s the ‘were Isaac’s been—”_

_“Derek, what the hell? You can’t just drop info like that without even giving a—”_

“I can’t understand you when you both talk at the same time.” Derek reminded them, annoyed.

“ _How—”_ Cora started, but Laura elbowed her in the side.

 _“How could you not tell us Isaac’s going out with Scott McCall?”_ Laura demanded. Cora snarled at her before quieting down, begrudgingly allowing her sister to take the lead on the interrogation.

“I did.” Derek said shortly, because he had. To be fair, his exact words had been _Isaac is going out with Stiles’ roommate,_ but at the time, Laura and Cora had been far more interested in Stiles than Isaac’s nameless boyfriend.

 _“Like fuck, you did!”_ Cora shot back. _“Where’s Isaac? I want answers! He tells me everything and he hasn’t told me shit about this!”_

“I don’t know, he’s pretty stupid.” Derek grinned. Critical mistake.

 _“Wait!_ ” Laura scrambled. _“Wait, oh my god, your boyfriend! Go back! How did you meet him? When can we see him?”_

Derek scowled. “He’s not my—what happened to interrogating Isaac?”

 _“Trust us, Isaac is getting his own video call as soon as we know everything there is to know about your new boy toy._ ” Cora promised, gleefully clapping her hands. _“Now spill!”_

“He’s not a...a boy toy.” Derek made a face, praying he never had to hear that phrase come out of his sister’s mouth again. Or his mouth, for that matter. “You’re one to talk, by the way. How’s Bella?”

 _“Ugh, boring as hell.”_ Cora replied. _“It’s Kira now, and Kira is_ **_so_ ** _gorgeous, Derry._ **_And_ ** _she owns and wields her own katanas? God, she's cool.”_

“Is that Cora?”

Derek’s head shot up in horror. Isaac had unlocked the door without him noticing. Isaac had opened the door and entered the room and _brought Stiles with him, oh god._ Derek had lost track of time in the worst way. Isaac and Stiles had returned from their study group, looking tired but cheerful—maybe they’d finally finished their psychology papers. But it was too late to save them now. Poor Isaac had no idea what he’d just unleashed.

 _“Isaac? Is that him? Is that you? Isaac, why didn’t you tell us you were dating Scott freaking McCall? How could you not mention the single most important detail of_ — _”_

 _“Oh my god! Isaac! What the hell is wrong with you? Your new boyfriend is Alpha McCall? Why the hell didn’t you say anything? You little_ — _”_

“Oh shit.” Isaac muttered, grabbing the phone from Derek and flipping the camera around, turning it to face Stiles. “Hey look! It’s Derek’s new boyfriend! Everybody meet Stiles!”

Stiles stared blankly past the camera, utterly lost in drooling over Derek. His eyes were wide and bright as he bit down on his lower lip, and Derek felt the tension that had been building and coiling in his chest begin to melt away. It felt amazing, to see evidence that Stiles was just as eager for tonight as Derek was. The time Derek had spent getting ready was instantly worth it. 

Stiles himself seemed to be ready as well, despite having come straight from the upper levels of the library. He was in a forest green sweater pulled over a collared shirt paired with dark grey jeans, easily the most attractive outfit Derek had ever seen him in. His glasses—though he’d surely worn them for his study session—were unfortunately put away. The green was a good color on him. A _really_ good color. 

Stiles would look perfect no matter what. Not to mention Stiles very clearly thought the same of Derek, which was a happy surprise. How someone as gorgeous as Stiles could possibly want Derek was beyond Derek’s comprehension, and he didn’t dare question it out loud for fear of losing Stiles before he truly had him.

If only this moment could have been shared between just the two of them.

“Stiles!” Isaac prompted, poking him in the arm. Stiles broke out of his Derek-induced trance, his scent transitioning from something burning and _deeply_ appreciative and into an enthusiastic confusion.

“What? Oh! Hi!” Stiles waved brightly, despite being unsure as to who was on the other end of the call. _Boyfriend?_ He mouthed at Derek, waggling his eyebrows as he craned his neck past Isaac. Then— “Wait, who am I waving at? Your friends?”

“Satan.” Derek informed him, taking a step back to sink down into his mattress. Stiles blinked owlishly. It was infuriatingly adorable.

“ _Oh my god, you’re so cute!”_ Laura was the first to speak up, positively squealing. _“What? And you exist! Oh, and you look so sweet! Hi Stiles!”_

_“Derek caught_ **_you_ ** _?_ ” Cora exclaimed. _“You look so normal! Holy shit!”_

Stiles glanced at Derek again before asking in a hushed tone, “Dude, was your last ex a total freak-show or something?”

Derek, who wanted to run and hide, dropped his head into his hands. Stiles frowned, concerned.

“Way to make a good first impression on the family, Stiles.” Isaac teased.

At that, Stiles’ eyes went wide in horror. “Oh my god!” He grabbed the phone out of Isaac’s hands, flipping the camera back to the front. “ _Isaac, what the hell_?” He hissed. Then he smiled brightly, positively beaming at the camera. 

“Hi! Hi, oh man, I’m so sorry! You must be Laura! And Cora! Right? Hi! Holy shit, you guys are gorgeous, by the way. Like, damn. Genetics, huh? Wait, I mean, I don’t—not to say that—oh wow. Hello! Again! Uh, it’s nice to meet you! You seem so great! Derek couldn’t stop talking about you guys last night. It’s so cute how nervous he is, he’s like a little puppy—”

**_“What?!”_ **

Derek came back to life and yanked the phone out of Stiles’ hands. He hung up on his sisters, his eyes wide with panic. Stiles stared down at his empty hands, pouting, then turned to Derek and whined. Derek’s phone was already ringing again. Derek ignored it.

“Why?” Stiles pleaded. “Derek, your sisters seem so nice. Didn’t they like me?”

“They do.” Derek scowled furiously down at his phone, still vibrating with his sister's new video call. He turned his phone on _do not disturb_ and shoved it into his pocket. _Assholes._

Stiles frowned. “But I—”

“They love you.” Isaac promised. “Derek just gets grumpy when he’s _embarrassed_.” He taunted, stepping over and elbowing Derek in the side as the other man stood back up. Derek snarled at him, baring his teeth and swiping at Isaac, missing by a hair. 

“Awww, dude.” Stiles reached up and ran a hand through Derek’s hair, calming him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“You didn’t.” Isaac told him. “They did. They’re just so happy for lonely little Derry.” Isaac simpered, dodging away from Derek’s next hit. _Bastard._

“Shut up.” Derek growled. Stiles snickered, probably at him. Wonderful. Derek wilted, his lips pursing into a thin line. Unconcerned, Stiles cheerfully pressed a kiss to Derek’s cheek, patting his chest as he sat down next to him.

“Awww, it’s okay, Derry.” Stiles promised, simpering. Derek scowled at him, wholly unamused. Stiles held up his hands defensively. “Got it, no more Derry. Never again. I promise.”

Derek sighed, relaxing slightly. Then Isaac’s phone rang, abruptly cutting into the silence. Isaac quickly dug into his pocket, already sure of who the caller was. Derek quickly snarled at Isaac in warning, inwardly dying of mortification and desperate to move past his embarrassment. Isaac froze. Slowly, he leaned over and set his still-ringing phone face-down on his bed. Derek ran his tongue over his gums, his fangs itching just below the surface. 

“Avoiding them won’t work.” Isaac said plainly, his smirk and childish amusement greatly diminishing the sincerity of his warning.

“Just…shut up.” Derek grabbed Stiles’ hand, pulling him out of the dorm through the still-open door.

“ _Bye_.” Isaac said pointedly. Derek ignored him. Isaac rolled his eyes, far too used to Derek’s tantrums. He gave a wave before shutting the door after them, presumably to prepare for his own date—he and Scott were going to a pizza place downtown. Derek started to walk down the hall, wanting desperately to flee the scene of his death.

“Man, dating a werewolf involves a lot more passive-aggressive hand-holding than I would’ve expected.” Stiles said lightly, readily letting Derek pull him along. “I mean, I expected _some_ passive-aggressive hand-holding. Just less.”

“Less than this? That might be a deal-breaker.” Derek managed, squeezing Stiles’ hand. He felt himself start to relax again. This was something he could do now. Hold Stiles’ hand. 

“Glad to see you’re lightening up a little bit.” Stiles teased. “Wouldn’t want you to be all tense for tonight. That’s not supposed to happen until _after_ I try to make a move on you.”

Derek stopped just short of the exit door, the purpose of the evening coming back to him in full-force. 

Oh god. They hadn’t even left the building and Derek had already ruined his chances. He shook his head, apologetic. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Wait, not about your….no, I’m sorry. Truly, I am. I’m overriding our date with my own issues—if you can even call them that—and that’s not fair. My sisters….mean well.”

“I’m sure they do. ” Stiles promised. “It’s okay, Derek. I get it. Actually, no. I don’t have sisters. But I think I get it. You’re a man of few words, my dude. Stuff like that can be draining, _especially_ when your family is concentrating all of their efforts on meddling in your dating life. Trust me, Scott and my dad do their fair share of meddling in my life too. You’re not alone.”

“Yeah.” Derek said shortly, still worried. Stiles leaned up and pressed a kiss to Derek’s cheek, happy. Derek felt the tips of his ears burning at the touch, flushing. Stiles leaned up further and kissed Derek’s ear.

“I’m taking that as a sign that you’re excited for our date.” Stiles stepped around Derek slightly to pull open the door to their dorm, leading the way. Derek followed closely behind him, hoping he didn’t seem too eager.

“Very.” Derek assured him.

Stiles beamed, and linked his fingers with Derek’s as they walked out of the building.

* * *

The campus ice cream parlour they were going to, _Ice Ice Tasty_ —which Stiles thought was a pun on that old Vanilla Ice song while Derek privately disagreed because that would make the name even more ridiculous—was less than a fifteen minute walk from Derek’s dorm. It was a pleasant night for November. It wasn’t exactly warm enough for ice cream, but it wasn’t too cold for it either. 

It was the right temperature for Stiles to comfortably hold Derek’s hand while they walked, and for Stiles to give an in-depth flavor analysis of all thirty kinds of ice cream. Derek himself had never really been in there before— _anxiety-ridden, hormonal college teen_ was a decidedly unpleasant scent, especially when it was multiplied by dozens of people in new relationships (or old relationships that had recently ended) all crammed into one mid-sized ice cream parlour.

Derek hadn’t told Stiles any of that, because Stiles had declared it a national crime when Derek had admitted he’d never been in there except during his freshman orientation. Derek hadn’t had the heart to tell him why. It wasn’t a big deal though, since they would probably eat outside under the awning anyways. And Derek did like ice cream. So he’d set their date for around dinner time, hoping most people would be in the dining halls instead of getting ice cream.

Derek would have a good time no matter what though, because he was finally on a date with Stiles. They were only a few minutes away now. Stiles had kept their conversation going mostly on his own, perfectly happy just to have someone listening to him. Derek liked listening. It was when people expected him to contribute that things went sour—Derek was many things, but a skilled conversationalist was not one of them. Thankfully Stiles talked enough for the both of them.

“—and her favorite is green tea, which I think is disgusting and a crime against humanity but Lydia loves it because she’s a tasteless heathen. Don’t tell her I said that though. My dad likes to get flavors like strawberry and banana and black raspberry because he makes a big show of saying it’s got fruit so he’s allowed to have it, which is still cheating but it’s not like I can tell him to cut ice cream out of his life entirely. God, what a dreary existence that would be. Do Cora and Laura have favorite ice cream flavors?” Stiles finished eagerly. 

Derek paused, thinking. “Cookie dough. I think. For Laura. Cora isn’t a big fan of ice cream. She says it’s too cold. But she likes chocolate sometimes.”

“And what about you?” Stiles asked brightly, swinging their hands back and forth as they walked. “Do you have a favorite?”

Derek had to think about it again. No one had ever asked him what his favorite flavor of ice cream was. “Cherry.”

“Cherry.” Stiles repeated grinning. “So...any chance you can do that thing where you tie a cherry stem in a knot with your tongue?” He waggled his eyebrows.

Derek chuckled. “No. I’ve never met anyone who can do that.”

“I can.” Stiles said seriously, his tongue darting out to run over his lower lip. Derek’s mouth went dry, his grip on Stiles’ hand faltering for a moment as he thought of Stiles using his tongue to...oh. _Oh._

Derek swallowed thickly. He finally managed to respond after too long of a pause, trying and failing to sound unaffected. “Yeah?”

“Yup.” Stiles popped the P. “The trick is to pick a long one with a really big tip.”

“Um, that’s—okay. That’s. Nice.” Derek attempted. Stiles laughed, more _with_ Derek than _at_ him. Stiles knew exactly what he was doing. Derek ducked his head, bashful, and squeezed Stiles’ hand. 

They paused in front of the creamery when their walk ended. It was darker now, and Stiles’ face glowed in the light of the parlour’s storefront sign. Grinning, Stiles proudly held open the door for him. He led Derek inside before falling in close behind him.

Inside was crowded, a longer line than Derek had expected but not too bad. The aesthetic of the interior was relatively modern, with polished round tables and metal chairs spaced out over a checkered floor, whose squares alternated between bright white and cotton-candy blue. There were artful framed pictures of the older, nicer buildings on campus hanging up on the walls, and the loud noise of the professional kitchen appliances whirring behind the white display counter wasn’t _completely_ overwhelming. The combined scent of thirty different flavors of ice cream wasn’t supremely appetizing, but it was fine. At least Derek knew the ice cream tasted good.

A handful of people stood in front of them, maybe five or six. Four of them looked like they were paying as one group. Derek didn’t know if that would make the line faster or slower. Beside him, Stiles reached over and supportively reclaimed his hand. Derek glanced at him distractedly as they moved forward in line.

“Hey,” Stiles said gently, “we’re just here for the ice cream, we’ll head out soon.”

“What?” Derek asked distantly, disoriented. The blender had started up again, and someone from the back was rolling in a large cart with a squeaky wheel. 

“Dude,” Stiles pointedly looked around the shop, _“I_ could hear those milkshake machines from outside. It’s super loud in here. I’m not gonna make us sit down in the actual parlour. You’d be too on edge to do anything but grind your teeth. That’s not a fun date.”

Derek turned to look at him properly, confused. “We’re not eating here?”

“Uh, you and your _special condition_ want to eat in here?” Stiles raised an eyebrow, glancing around. “With the grinding machinery? And those coffee and peanut butter flavors that are so strong even _I_ can smell them from here? I mean, everybody likes peanut butter. But you really want to sit in here?”

Derek hadn’t expected this. “Well....no.”

“Do you need to step outside while I wait for our ice cream?” Stiles asked sincerely, watching the final person in front of them. “I don’t mind, I promise. They have Very Berry Cherry. You said you like cherry, right?”

“No.” Derek said, more definitively. Stiles frowned. Derek corrected himself. “No, as in I don’t need to wait outside. I do like cherry.”

“Awesome!” Stiles grinned. “I still can’t decide what I’m getting though. What sounds better, Triple Chocolate Crunch or Banana Fudge Blast?”

Derek had never consumed either of those flavors, but they arrived at the front of the line before he had to offer his answer. A girl with short dark hair and a bright blue apron was manning the register. Her name tag, _Caitlin_ , had a peeling purple smiley face sticker next to her name.

“Hi Caitlin!” Stiles said pleasantly, his fingers drumming on the edge of the counter.

“Hi!” Caitlin smiled. “Welcome to _Ice Ice Tasty._ We have a special tonight on waffle cones, just to let you know. Would you like to order a cone, a bowl or a shake?”

The two of them placed their orders—Banana Fudge Blast in a waffle cone for Stiles, Very Berry Cherry in a bowl for Derek—then stepped aside and made their way over to stand beside the pickup counter. Stiles had paid, despite Derek’s immediate protest, because _the ice cream was my idea, Der. I’m paying. You can pay for our second date, I promise_. Derek didn’t mind as much after that remark; their first date had barely started and Stiles was already thinking about a second.

Still, Derek frowned slightly, glancing around at the tables. “Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“If we aren’t eating in here,” Derek asked, “then where are we eating?”

“Ah!” Stiles beamed. “ _That_ , my dear Sourwolf, is a super-duper secret.”

“ _Order for John!”_

Stiles stepped up to the counter, stuffing a handful of napkins into his pocket before grabbing their ice cream, thanking Caitlin as he did so. Derek raised a questioning eyebrow as he accepted his ice cream from Stiles. In return, Stiles mimed zipping his lips and tossing away the key, then backed out towards the exit door. Yeah, that gesture was gonna last.

Derek followed Stiles away from the ice cream parlour, letting him take the lead as he guided Derek towards their mystery destination. He was walking backwards now. Derek had a feeling that wasn’t the best idea, but Stiles currently had all of his attention trained on Derek and that felt _really_ good.

“I don’t know if I trust this super-duper secret.” Derek said lightly. “Any chance you could be persuaded to give a hint?”

“Ha! Cute _and_ a charmer.” Stiles laughed and—horribly—took a large bite out of his ice cream cone. Derek winced, feeling the imaginary cold of the ice cream in his over-sensitive teeth.

“Who bites ice cream like that?” Derek was, genuinely concerned.

“Uh, who eats ice cream in a bowl when they could have gotten a super awesome waffle cone?” Stiles took a long, exaggerated lick of his ice cream to punctuate his point. Derek’s eyes were drawn instantly to Stiles’ tongue—the slowly melting ice cream had dripped down and Stiles had deliberately licked up the side of the entire cone. 

Stiles winked. Derek tore his eyes away from Stiles—who was enjoying himself immensely, if his stupidly smug expression was anything to go by—and determinedly ate a large spoonful of Very Berry Cherry.

They’d been walking for maybe five minutes or so when Stiles stopped in front of a large building, pausing to scan the surrounding area. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a keycard, then swiped open the door. Derek glanced at the keycard suspiciously. 

“How long has your name been _Lydia Martin_?” Derek raised an eyebrow. Did Stiles’ scary friend know he’d stolen her student ID?

“Pretty recent development, actually.” Stiles grinned, reclaiming Derek’s hand and leading him into the building. Derek visually searched the area for clues. The interior was spotless and contemporary, utterly unrecognizable. Derek had never been in this building before. Stiles locked the door behind them, then leaned out past the lobby to scan the hallways.

“Does this date involve espionage?” Derek asked quietly. “Be honest.”

Stiles covered his mouth with his hands to stop himself from laughing. “Shhhh. Don’t be silly. That’s third date material. Now come on.”

Stiles led Derek to the end of the hall and up a flight of stairs. A very long, multi-level flight of stairs that kept going all the way to the top floor. There was a door at the top, and Stiles let Derek go out first so he could trail behind and prop the door open with a nearby concrete block (presumably there for that very purpose). They were on a roof.

Derek took in the scene in front of him. Stiles had taken Derek up to the observatory deck of the Beckett Laboratory, a building Derek would have recognized in daylight but had never entered. It was an astronomy lab, used primarily by the astrophysics majors. As far as Derek knew, Stiles’ friend Lydia did not major in astrophysics but here they were. 

There were three large, metal domes placed strategically across the roof—observatory telescopes—with bright red lights lining the perimeter of the rooftop. There was a smaller telescope set up near the edge, standing on a picnic blanket with some throw pillows. The air felt clearer up here, farther away from the main walkways. The sky was much darker now. They were alone, and they still had most of their ice cream left.

“My friend gave me her ID.” Stiles said shyly, fidgeting slightly. “She has special permission to use the telescopes on the weekends. She wouldn’t give me the security pass for the real telescopes though. I have a track record. So I had to bring my own. Isaac helped me set it up on our way to the library. I thought you might like it because it’s quiet. Relaxing. I figured no one else would be up here so we could be alone. Is it okay? We can go somewhere else if you don’t like it.”

“I like it, Stiles.” Derek promised gently. “I really, really like it.”

He did. It was peaceful here. Quiet without feeling eerie, secluded without feeling claustrophobic. Derek had never had the chance to come up here before—none of his classes were even remotely astronomy related. It was intimate in a way he wouldn’t have expected an empty rooftop to be. Maybe it was the red lighting, or the distance between the two of them and the campus below.

“Yeah?” Stiles seemed desperately relieved. He moved forward to sink down into the blanket, as if he’d been expecting Derek to run away in horror at the thought of them spending time together anywhere other than a brightly-lit five star resort. “Good. I-I’m glad. That you like it.”

“Of course.” Derek said seriously, taking a seat beside him. “You—” _you could have taken me to a back alley dumpster and I would have climbed in after you without a second thought,_ “—you put thought into it. You wanted it to be special. That’s...that’s really sweet.”

Stiles smiled timidly, tightly clutching the remains of his ice cream cone as he let out a nervous breath. He bit his lip before finishing the rest of his ice cream. Derek followed suit.

“Did, um,” Stiles licked his lips, “did you know the origin of the Lupus constellation is related to Lycaon, the ancient king of Arcadia who was thought to be one of the first werewolves?”

Derek paused. “Didn’t Lycaon eat his children?”

“No, actually.” Stiles corrected tightly. “He fed his children to _other_ people. Zeus, notably. So did Tantalus, another king. _Lots_ of child-eating in Ancient Greece.”

“Cute.” Derek said flatly. Stiles gave a small, stressed noise, like he’d started to say something but had opted to cut himself off instead. His scent was comfortable—he trusted Derek, which meant a great deal more than Derek could say—but it was edged with hope and anxiety. As if a part of Stiles was worried Derek would turn around and reject him for trying to make small talk.

“I...I was really anxious about this date.” Stiles admitted. “Not in a bad way, in a good way! But, um, I might have spent way too many hours googling _sexy astronomy facts_ ? Then _lupus constellation fun facts_ . Then _wolves in literature and mythology_ . Then _how to date a werewolf_ , which gave me some seriously weird romance novels.”

“ _I_ think you’re doing fantastic.” Derek said. “Werewolves love discussing their cannibalistic ancestors under the stars. It’s incredibly romantic.”

Stiles snorted, then lightly hit Derek with one of the throw pillows. “I know, I know...fuck, I should’ve gone with the jokes.”

“Jokes?” Derek questioned.

Stiles scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Yeah, uh...did you hear about the werewolf at the comedy club?”

Derek hadn’t heard. An impressive feat, considering the sheer number of werewolf jokes he’d been subjected to in this lifetime. Derek shook his head. “No.”

“He had them howling all night.” Stiles had a hand over his face, both a little embarrassed and trying to stifle his laughter. Derek laughed too, more at Stiles’ adorably cute expression than the joke itself.

“Is the telescope up here so we can look at the moon?” Derek was only half-kidding.

“Please.” Stiles scoffed. “Even I know that’s a little too on-the-nose.”

“Tell me you didn’t research astronomy themed pick-up lines.”

“....no.” said Stiles, a blatant lie. Derek grinned, hearing Stiles’ heart skip a beat.

Stiles shuffled over on the blanket to edge closer to the telescope. Derek did the same, and watched as Stiles explained how to use it. The eyepiece, the altitude adjustment, the magnification, the finder scope—apparently it was a bit more complicated than just looking through the lens. Derek listened patiently to Stiles’ eager instructions. Then, while Stiles was adjusting the telescope rings—

“So, are you made of dark matter?” Stiles paused for effect. “Because you’re indescribable.”

“If your next line is about a telescope in your pants—” Derek started.

Stiles waggled his eyebrows. “You _wish_ , Derek Hale.”

Derek lightly rolled his eyes, giving an easy smile as Stiles tried to refocus his attention on the telescope instead of Derek, which simply couldn’t be allowed. 

Derek leaned over and pressed a soft, deep kiss to Stiles’ lips, his hand moving upwards to graze his thumb over Stiles’ cheek. Stiles gave in immediately, one hand set on the blanket for balance, the other tracing Derek’s chest, fingers brushing over skin exposed by an open shirt collar. It felt incredible, Derek thought. Being there with Stiles. The first time Derek had kissed him, it had been frantic and unreserved, followed by a harried, desperate makeout session. Up here it was sweeter, calmer. Their shared moment was new and familiar at the same time, as they pulled themselves into each other like nothing else mattered. It felt right. Underneath the stars.

Stiles went quiet when Derek pulled away, his face impossibly red between his blush and the viewing lights of the rooftop. 

“Wow.” Stiles breathed. “I am _so_ glad we got our shit together.”

Derek grinned. “Me too, Stiles.”

Stiles reached over, his hand moving to Derek’s arm and pulling him in closer. Derek obliged, wrapping his arm around Stiles as they took a moment to look up at the sky. Stiles settled into Derek, resting his head against his chest.

“....like, really, _really_ glad.”

“I didn’t realize star-gazing was such a chatty activity.”

“Everything with me is a chatty activity. I have a boisterous personality.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

Stiles huffed as he snuggled into Derek, the two of them foregoing the telescope in favor of laying back on the throw pillows, looking up at the open sky together. 

The roof was silent and still, intimate like a hidden secret. It felt separate and special. 

Derek thought he could stay like this, peaceful and hidden, listening to Stiles run through the history and evolution of each constellation. His voice was calm and sweet, like fresh rain on a field of flowers. Derek squeezed Stiles’ hand, hopeful. Stiles squeezed back.

Yeah. Special.

Stiles was special.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rejected first date locations I started writing then gave up on because they didn’t feel right include: greenhouse/school garden, staying inside the ice cream parlour, a pizza place, a bench outside the library, an indoor movie screening of X-Men.
> 
> I do have more chapters written (well, I started them), but I loved the way I ended this so much I thought maybe I would just end here and start a second work for this series instead of making it a new chapter. I just have so many ideas! Trip to Beacon Hills, anyone? There’s also a teeny tiny time jump (time step?) for the next one and these chapters all happen within the same week, right after the other. I feel like a new work makes sense. Thoughts???


End file.
